Broken Pieces
by nimblnymph
Summary: When life shatters around us, there are only two options: we either shatter along with it or we scrape up the pieces and start again.  Sometimes though, it's necessary to piece together others before we can fix ourselves.
1. The Opening Departure

**This is being written for the incredibly cool and very generous demonz_dream on LiveJournal. I offered up my talents as a writer for the Help Japan auction that was going on to aid those effected by the earthquake and tsunami. Demonz here won the bid with a mind blowing offer. That is just ... I'm still in awe of your generosity and support for such a noble cause. Thank you for such amazing kindness. And I truly hope this fic not only lives up to your expectations but also demonstrates how touched _I _am by your donation.**

**This going to be a multichapter fic - my first one since completing Double Edged. It's going to be completely different from pretty much anything I've ever written for this pairing, and it'll certainly earn its M rating.**

**So, without further ado... the ficcage. Please enjoy!**

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><p>He used to think hell was losing the ones you loved, but now as he sat across from her at their small kitchen table he realized that wasn't true. Staring at your wife across inches that felt like miles, not speaking, her pushing food around her plate while avoiding his gaze. Having her there but not really there, going through the motions of life. That was hell. And no matter what or how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get them both out of it.<p>

Kakashi cleared his throat lightly and made yet another attempt at conversation by remarking, "The chicken's really good tonight."

Sakura made no response, merely continued rearranging the placement of food on her place.

A sigh escaped him, the sound a combination of weariness and mounting frustration. Talking about the quality of chicken wasn't the best conversation starter, true, but damn it … all he wanted was _some _kind of reaction. A simple nod of agreement, a shrug, using her chopsticks like a kunai to stab the chicken … anything. At this point, even her rage was preferable to the silent apathy.

He dropped his own utensils and scrubbed a hand down his face. The stubble that'd been collecting underneath his mask for the last two days scratched roughly across his palm. "Sakura…" he began, but was cut short by her chair scraping harshly across the floor.

"I'm tired," she mumbled – the first words she'd spoken all day. It was about the only thing she ever _did _say to him anymore.

He nodded and managed a weak smile for her benefit. "Okay," he whispered back, unable to keep the rough edge from his voice.

She didn't bother taking her plate from the table like she used to. Sakura, the queen of OCD cleanliness and order in their tiny apartment, no longer cared about dirty dishes or piles of laundry. She didn't care that their bedroom, which they hadn't shared in almost two months, looked like a horder's den. He was positive if he wasn't there constantly prodding at her that she wouldn't even bother washing herself. Or eating. Or even moving for that matter. If left to her own devises, he knew she would probably just stay in that damned bed until she died.

Kakashi heard the bedroom door shut and steeled himself for what inevitably followed: the muffled, broken sobs of a woman who had just had her entire life shattered into a million, irreparable pieces.

It killed him when she cried alone in that room. Every night for the last two months was a fresh death. For the first week, he'd followed her into the bedroom and tried to hold her while she cried, tried to show her through action that she wasn't the only one hurting. After that, she'd taken to locking the door behind her, letting him know without words that she didn't want his comfort. She didn't want his understanding and empathy.

He stared at his plate of barely touched food and pushed it away. It wouldn't do either of them any good if they both became sick and malnourished, but his appetite was completely gone.

Sighing again, Kakashi stood and began cleaning up from dinner – yet another meal ordered from the little food market across the street. It'd become a routine now: wake up, check on Sakura, visit the cenotaph, check on Sakura again, do follow ups on the new genin teams, stop across the street for dinner, come home and vainly hope that tonight she would finally opened up to him.

There'd been a time when she'd shared everything with him, from what was going on at the hospital to what she was going to attempt to make for dinner. He liked hearing her talk. No matter how mundane the topic might be, he liked hearing the enthusiasm in her voice, how truly excited she was about the conversation. If anyone but Sakura had tried to talk to him about cellular repair through chakra infusion techniques, he would have blanked out. But the way her eyes would shine and that sweet, eager smile would curve her lips… It'd been so long since he'd seen it that he was beginning to wonder if it'd just been his imagination.

Kakashi finished packing up the remaining takeout and doing the dishes, running the water loud enough to drown out the sobs coming from the next room over. He trudged his way into the living room to the couch where a lumpy pillow and a lightweight throw blanket waited to receive him.

He didn't sleep. Instead, he spent the night staring up at the ceiling, listening to Sakura cry, and feeling more lost and helpless than he had in years. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to do this much longer. As much as he loved her, it was all starting to weigh heavily on him. But… he couldn't leave her. He loved her too much to ever let her go. No matter how exhausting it was, he couldn't leave Sakura to go through this alone.

Tomorrow was a new day, he told himself. Tomorrow, he would try again. And he would keep trying until she either let him in or he broke completely. At that point, it was a toss up which would happen first.

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><p>Kakashi woke up to sunlight slanting across his face through a gap in the thick curtains. His eyes scrunched at the intrusion, but his body was already beginning to shift itself into a more conscious state. He yawned, ran a hand back through his tangled hair, and slowly pushed himself upright. First thing first: get the coffee going and see what was available for breakfast. He was pretty sure there were eggs and some leftover rice. It probably wasn't an ideal breakfast, but it would do.<p>

He turned on the stove, counting the clicks of the gas pilot as it lit up, before setting the teapot in place. There were mugs still in the strainer from yesterday, so he grabbed them rather than reaching overhead for fresh ones. The instant coffee was out on the counter, right next to the machine for brewing real coffee. It'd been a wedding present from Genma; three years later and he still had no idea how to work the damn thing.

Two scoops went into the bottom of his mug, one and a half in hers plus two teaspoons of sugar. Kakashi went over to the fridge and sighed when he noticed they were out of milk. Sakura liked her coffee with milk – or, at least she _used_ to. It was hard to say whether she liked much of anything anymore. Still… it was routine to fix her coffee the way she liked it, and routine was about the only thing keeping him going nowadays. He'd have to try and remember to pick some milk up on his way home.

There were just enough eggs and rice to make two servings. A quick search of the cupboard uncovered some of that premixed rice seasoning he liked, which was also where he found the last of the oranges he'd bought last week. He pulled out a frying pan, dumped in the eggs and rice, added a little seasoning, and began cooking up their breakfast. Since there was only one orange and two of them, he pulled out a knife from the wooden block (another wedding gift, although this one saw quite a bit more use than the coffee maker) and cut it into neat wedges, even going so far as to try and arrange them pleasingly on a small plate. Sakura had a bit of a sweet tooth, so maybe the combination of appealing presentation and sugar would convince her to have a few pieces.

The kettle went off just as he finished portioning out the rice into bowls. Kakashi shut the stove down and poured the steaming water into the waiting mugs, stirring his coffee first and then hers so as to avoid any sugar contamination. He set the table, even going so far as to pull open the blinds and let in a little sunlight to their kitchen. The day was already shaping up to be pleasantly warm with just the right amount of cloud coverage to keep it from being too much so. It was the perfect day for being outside. Maybe he could convince Sakura to do that very thing.

Feeling hopeful despite the fact that he really had no reason to, Kakashi knocked softly on the bedroom door. He knew it'd be unlocked; she always unlocked it sometime during the night. But it was her sanctuary now and he didn't want to intrude, even if it _was _technically his bedroom too.

When there was no answering movement on the other side, he knocked again and called, "Sakura, breakfast's ready."

Finally, after several seconds where he hardly dared to breathe, he heard the telltale rustling of someone waking up inside. He let out a sigh of relief before putting on a smile and opening the door.

Sakura was curled up in the middle of the bed. She'd stripped it of the sheets sometime last night so that she was lying on the bare mattress. The sheets were heaped on the floor which, he noted, needed to be swept. There were dusty bunnies starting to collect around the furniture edges.

It occurred to him, as his gaze swept over the room as a whole, that everything it was hers. The bed frame, the two standing dressers, the little side lamps … she'd brought all of it with her when they'd moved into this apartment nearly five years ago. She'd insisted on using her furniture, and he hadn't argued; how could he when his coffee table was being held together by duct tape and his mattress was barely large enough to accommodate him?

One would therefore think that upon entering the bedroom it would scream Haruno Sakura, but it didn't. Maybe it had at first and he just hadn't noticed, but now it most definitely belonged to _them_. There were pieces of himself that had matriculated into the space: the curtains, the bookshelf, the narrow rug that ran the length of the bed. Things that had once been his or hers had become theirs … but now it felt like it was beginning to turn back into hers again.

He didn't like that, the feeling that they were separating themselves again. He didn't like the idea that she was pulling away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His eye landed on the long, wide dresser against the far wall, the one that housed all their folded clothing. All sorts of things were on top of it: her hitae-ate, a very girlish jewelry box with half its contents spread out around it, a couple of his non _Icha Icha _books. There was the small wooden box that his parent's wedding rings were in – a gift from Sakura for his birthday. He'd shown the rings to her a few months prior and she'd then approached Tenzou about making something special to keep them safe in. It was easily one of the best presents anyone had ever given him.

But what caught and held his attention were the photographs, all of them framed and very carefully arranged in the corner that was closest to the window so as to catch the best light.

There was the original Team Seven photograph that had been taken at the Academy, now faded and a little discolored with age. The edges were seared a bit and the surface was lined with creases from when the village had been destroyed, but it still remained in tact. Next to it was a picture of Team Kakashi. He remembered that day, how Tenzou had offered to take the photo but soon found himself dragged into frame by an exuberant Naruto.

That'd also been the day he'd started to notice Sakura a little differently, in a way that had more to do with being a _woman _and not a _student_. She'd stood in front of him and he'd caught a hint of her shampoo, a citrus scent that was more clean smelling than sweet. She'd turned back toward him right before the picture was taken to smile and he'd noted that there was something new in her eyes, something that was warm and personal and very much directed at him.

And then there was their official wedding photos – yes, plural. A small smile crept across his lips at the sight of the two pictures sharing one frame. On the left was a very formal wedding photograph, with Sakura beaming as she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her traditional kimono and him standing just slightly behind her, his dark attire offsetting the pale pink of hers perfectly.

The one next to it was a blooper shot the photographer had taken accidentally, which somehow had gotten mixed in with the official photographs. Kakashi may or may not have had a hand in arranging that mistake. It was of an angry Sakura realizing that he was wearing his mask and reaching up to jerk it down. He still recalled the way she'd yelled at him, saying she wanted at least _one _picture of their wedding where people could see just how handsome her husband was.

The ironic thing was that in the end she hadn't gotten her wish. All that could be seen were his eyes creasing in amusement and the barest peek of his naked jaw. The rest of his face, including his nose, was completely shrouded by her hand.

Next to that one was perhaps his favorite picture of all: a candid shot Naruto took of her at a festival about seven months ago. Sakura hadn't known the camera was on her, so there was no posing or camera ready smile. It was just her with her hair pulled back, turned slightly away from the lens, and a soft smile gracing her lips as her finger brushed across a paper pinwheel.

His eye lingered a little longer on that picture before turning to the woman lying on the stripped down bed. She was paler than she normally was, an unhealthy shade that made the circles under her eyes more pronounced. Sakura had always been a slightly built woman, but now she was bordering on frailty. Her cheeks were thin, her skin tight against her collarbone, and he knew from getting her in and out of the shower that her ribs were starting to show. It was difficult to reconcile the woman staring blankly at the ceiling to the woman in those photographs.

Kakashi went over to the bed and sat on the edge, being careful to keep a little distance between them. She was on her back so she _had _to know he was there, but her eyes didn't so much as flicker his way. There'd been a time where she'd hardly seemed able to keep her gaze off of him. Her eyes had been warmer then, softly affectionate and absolutely mesmerizing. Now they were dull, utterly emotionless. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of her chest, he'd almost swear she was dead.

"Sakura, breakfast's ready," he repeated in a soft, coaxing voice, trying to keep the other emotions from coming through. "There's fried rice and coffee."

She didn't say anything, merely stared at the ceiling with her empty eyes.

"Or I can run across the street and get some of those little cakes you like," he offered. "The ones with the pink frosting. Would you like that?"

Sakura's response was to roll away from him onto her side.

A quiet breath left him, one that bordered close to a sigh. Maybe today wasn't the day after all. Kakashi smiled, even though his throat felt tight and there was a definite sting to his eyes. He nodded, smoothing her hair back gently with his hand, and whispered, "Okay," before placing a kiss on her cheek and leaving.

He went back to the kitchen, stared at the meal he'd prepared for the both of them, and had to clench his hands hard to keep from throwing it all against a wall. Maybe he _should _break a few dishes. Maybe that would finally gain a response from her.

He didn't though. It would only create a bigger mess anyway, not to mention they'd be down a couple plates. Instead, he scraped her meal into a Tupperware container, dumped her coffee down the sink, and ate his in the silent kitchen.

There would be other tomorrows.


	2. Losing My Religion

Kakashi had just arrived at the jounin headquarters when the raven swooped down from overhead. It landed on the metal handrail directly next to him, tilting its head in such a way as to give the impression it was summoning him. It was, in a manner of speaking; there was a scroll of paper attached to its leg. Even from where he was standing he could make out the official seal holding it closed.

He closed his eye, as if by doing so the bird would suddenly disappear and he wouldn't have to acknowledge the summons. Wouldn't have to face Tsunade, wouldn't have to have the same painful conversation again. She would ask about trivial matters, skirting around the main issue like she was trying to soften the blow, but in reality it only prolonged his misery. Or maybe she was indirect out of her own fear? Who could say for certain? All he knew was that he wasn't quite up to the task of facing his Hokage that day.

The crow cawed loudly, clearly impatient with his inaction. It wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how far he ran or where he hid. These birds were especially trained to track down the recipient and stay with them until the message was relieved from their leg. He could take the letter and let it be on its way, but what good would that do? Tsunade would only send an ANBU squad to drag him in anyway. He'd be penalized for disobeying (or, more accurately, ignoring) orders, there would be paperwork, and he'd be several hours behind on what he needed to do. It was a disruption he couldn't afford to make, not with Sakura to think about.

No, he couldn't ignore it. As much as he wanted to avoid her questions – avoid facing her completely – it was impossible. Letting out a resigned breath, Kakashi stepped forward and removed the summons from the raven's leg. It gave another cry before unfurling its wings and taking off, quickly fading to nothing more than a dark speck against a bright blue horizon.

The message was simple and direct: report to her office at his earliest convenience. He wondered briefly if "earliest convenience" could be construed as "never" before crumbling the paper up into a tight little wad and lighting it with a quick fire jutsu. The letter went up in a bright burst of red-orange and the wind helped with the rest, carrying away the bits of ash and thin smoke until there was nothing left.

Kakashi was in no hurry to arrive, despite the fact he had other, more important, duties that morning. There was a reason why he'd stopped giving Tsunade regular updates, and it wasn't just because he couldn't stand to see the sad, pained look on her face. He knew she would bring it up again and, just like the last three times she did, the conversation would end in a heated argument. A shouting match with the Hokage was about the last thing he needed right then, but it was inevitable.

As he got closer and closer to the Tower, Kakashi began preparing himself for the battle ahead. He focused on breathing, counting each inhale and exhale as they came, forcing them to remain even. It was not only a form of meditation but an outlet for control – something he felt was slipping through his fingers with each passing day. As long as he could breathe, as long as he could control the physical responses of his body, then everything else would fall into place. At least that was what he kept telling himself. Sometimes an illusion was better than reality.

By the time he was walking through the doors into the main entryway, he was as composed as he could possibly be given the circumstances. He nodded to the ANBU guards stationed on either side of the doorway as he passed by. They reminded him a little of matching bookends the way they stood there, completely immobile. He'd been like that, once upon a time, and wondered if they were as bored as he'd been when on guard duty.

The lobby was empty save for a few clerical sorts bustling by with stacks of documents and charts under their arms. Some of them were obviously civilian; they stood out for their lack of scars. The majority, however, were ninja who were either off the mission roster or who specialized in non-field areas. He spotted Nara Shikaku nodding to whatever a very well dressed man was saying. The clan leader glanced at him as he passed by, but he didn't say anything. No one ever really did, even though he knew they were all probably aware of what was going on. How could they not? It was impossible not to notice when the village's premier medic and top jounin hadn't served in their mutual capacities for the last couple months.

Kakashi waited by the elevators with a small group of kunoichi who were murmuring to themselves about their weekend plans. One of them, judging by her uniform, was a medic-in-training. He very quickly found an interesting spot on the far wall to stare at.

When the doors chimed and opened, the kunoichi stepped onto the elevator. A tall brunette held the door for him, arching her brow inquiringly.

"I'll catch the next one," he replied.

She nodded and the doors slid closed. Kakashi very nearly let out a sigh of relief.

The next elevator that came down was thankfully empty. He got on and repeatedly jammed the button to close the doors, even though he knew that it didn't actually make them move any faster. It went back to that whole illusion thing. The car gave a grinding lurch as it began to slide up the cable, going straight for the top where the Hokage's office was located.

Kakashi watched the floor numbers slide by and hoped this meeting would go quickly. He reminded himself that Tsunade wasn't trying to be hurtful. She loved Sakura just as much as he did and was only acting out of concern. He just didn't agree with her way of handling things, that was all.

The elevator arrived at the top and the doors opened out into the spacious waiting room of the Hokage's office. Several people were there already, some pacing, some sitting, and some glancing at the old wall clock with bored expressions. Kakashi headed toward the twin desks on either side of the door and, after catching Kotetsu's eye, approached the waiting clerk.

For a moment, Kotetsu did nothing more than stare at him. Kakashi was half afraid he was going to ask the question he could tell was lurking just beneath the surface, but instead the jounin nodded and said, "Tsunade-sama's expecting you, Kakashi-san. Just go straight in."

There was a round of grumbled protests from those who had been waiting much longer for their audience with the Hokage, but one glare from Kotetsu shut them up very quickly. If they wanted to get beyond that door, they had to play by his rules.

Grateful that he wouldn't have to wait, Kakashi murmured his thanks before stepping up to the door. Even though he'd been told he could enter, he still knocked anyway. He liked to think it was because he was polite, but deep down he knew it was just another stalling tactic.

"Enter!" the Hokage snapped from the other side.

Kakashi slid a glance at Kotetsu and made a vague gesture with his hand to ask if she'd been drinking. The jounin replied with the barest of head shakes. Great, she was just naturally pissed off. Dealing with an angry, sober Tsunade was a thousand times worse than dealing with her angry and drunk. Shoulders sagging, Kakashi pushed the door open and stepped inside. He shut it after himself, knowing that whatever they said in that office wasn't meant for the general public. Although, if she was as furious as she sounded, it was likely the people outside would hear her anyway.

Tsunade glanced up from the stack of paperwork on her desk as he approached. He bowed respectfully and her scowl deepened further still. "Sit down," she ordered as her attention returned to completing a report.

He debated briefly about declining the invitation, but decided it was in his best interest to humor her. "Thank you, Hokage-sama."

Seconds passed, marked by the ticking of the wall clock, where she continued with her work while he tried to maintain a detached front. Finally, just as the unease was starting to make his palms sweat a bit, Tsunade set her pen aside and leaned back in her chair with a weary sigh.

She studied him, her amber eyes hard and unreadable. He met her gaze with one of polite boredom as he waited for the usual conversation to ensue. Rather than start off with the traditional niceties, however, Tsunade instead tossed a scroll across the desk to him.

Kakashi caught it easily, but didn't bother opening it. He knew by the red seal that it was an A-ranked mission.

Tsunade studied him silently for several seconds before inquiring, "Aren't you going to open it?"

He shook his head.

She sighed irritably before sitting up straighter in her chair, her hands folding together on top of her desk. "Very well then. The mission objective is rather simple, but there are a number of pitfalls that—,"

"Hokage-sama," he tried to interrupt, but she kept going as if he hadn't.

"—will give you troubles. This is a two man operation. I've selected Maito Gai to—,"

Kakashi's jaw tightened under his mask, his fingers curling a little harder into the scroll. "Tsunade-sama."

"—act as your other half. You're to break off the proposed marriage of the Daimyo of Kumo's son to the Daimyo of Iwa's daughter. As you can understand, such a political alliance has our Daimyo feeling—"

"_Tsunade_." Kakashi never really yelled, but there was definite force in his tone that, when combined with the lack of honorific, finally succeeded in quieting her instructions.

It also served to piss her off even further. Tsunade's eyes flared with barely contained anger as she slammed a palm down on her desk top. "_Do not_ disrespect me in my own office, Hatake!" she snapped. "I'm your Hokage."

"Your rank and the honor associated with it aren't in question here," Kakashi replied quickly, although he wasn't completely able to keep his own frayed temper from registering. "Nor is my loyalty to you and the village. But I can't take this mission."

Her eyes narrowed, the look in them becoming a little more dangerous than he cared for. He was treading on very thin ice right now and had to be mindful of his next words or else he'd more than likely find himself locked up for treason. That wouldn't be good at all, especially for Sakura. The thought of her being left to fend for herself, to try and work through it all alone, was like ice water. It immediately quelled his anger, reminded him of what exactly he was trying to protect.

Kakashi lowered his gaze humbly from hers and bowed his head. "My apologies, Hokage-sama," he murmured.

Tsunade let out a weary sigh and flopped back in her chair again, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to stave off a headache. "I'm not heartless, Kakashi," she explained, her voice softer and more compassionate than before. "But I have an entire village to run. You're my best jounin. I _need_ you back on the active roster. Have needed you for quite some time now. You have no idea how sorely your presence has been missed."

He swallowed heavily, his thumb running along the scroll's seal absently. "There are other jounin, Hokage-sama. Just as skilled as I am."

"None of them have a Sharingan eye. Not all of them are as capable a leader as you are. Only a few have the experience you do," she countered. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a stalling tactic of hers, one she used to rally herself for delivering unpleasant news. Kakashi waited, body tensed, for the blow to come.

"It's been two months, Kakashi. Two months and Sakura's not shown any signs of improvement. You need to consider the option of—,"

"No," he cut in sharply. "Absolutely not."

"Kakashi, be reasonable. Think of what's best for Sakura," Tsunade cajoled.

Kakashi jerked sharply to his feet, his hand gripping so tightly around the scroll that it caved in beneath his fingers, crinkling irreparably. He paced back and forth in front of her desk as all the emotions her suggestion provoked raged inside him: anger that she would dare suggest that, pain at her inferring that he wasn't considering Sakura's needs, fear that maybe she was right. He hated this sensation, this utter lack of control. Breathe. Control the body, control the mind. He just needed to breathe…

Unfortunately, he couldn't coordinate his lungs and mind, and soon the shallow breaths became ragged as he shook his head emphatically. "Sakura doesn't _need_ to be locked up," he bit out through clenched teeth. "She's not crazy. She just needs time—"

Tsunade's chair scraped on the wooden floor as she stood as well, leveling an unrepentant glare at him. "She's _had_ time, Kakashi. It's been two months and you _still_ can't leave her alone for very long without fearing for her wellbeing. What she needs is professional help. You _must _consider admitting her for psychiatric evaluation and treatment."

His jaw dropped as she voiced the words she'd been hinting at every time they talked about Sakura's condition. It was so shocking to actually _hear_ her say it that for a long time all he could do was gape at her. But as the words slowly started to filter through his head, the shock began to shift into something he could only label as betrayal. This was the woman who'd taken his wife under her wing, taught her everything she knew. She was like _family_ to Sakura, and here she was trying to institutionalize her.

Kakashi shook his head slowly and said, "How could you suggest that? This is _Sakura_ we're talking about. Do you honestly think being locked up in some sterile room, doped up on medication, is better for her than being with those who love and care about her? Sakura wouldn't ever choose that!"

His voice was starting to rise, but he didn't care. He would _not _let Tsunade do this to Sakura, not if there was anything he could do to prevent it. The idea of taking Sakura and defecting flitted briefly through his head, but it was there long enough for him to know he'd do it, without a moment's hesitation, if it meant keeping Sakura out of the psyche ward.

Tsunade scowled at him, bracing her hands on her desk as she leaned across it. He could see the tremor in her arms as she struggled to maintain control. "Do you think I _want_ to see that girl institutionalized?" she demanded in a low, angry growl. "She's more family than I've had in _decades_, Hatake. I will do everything in my power to protect her – the _exact _same promise you made her three years ago. And if it means ordering you to hand her over, then I'll do it!"

Her words hit him like a fatal blow. He staggered back a step as the room suddenly became very hot, very claustrophobic. Never before, in any battle he'd ever fought, had someone knocked him so completely off his guard. It was a cheap move, one so low even she seemed stunned that she'd said it. Tsunade's eyes widened, her hand rising to cover her mouth as if trying belatedly to stop the words from coming out.

It took him a couple tries before he was able to whisper, "Please. _Please._" He was begging; he didn't care. Tsunade could, as Hokage, order him to surrender Sakura. He was hoping – praying – that she didn't do that. His eyes were burning as he shook his head pleadingly. "Please. Don't do this."

Tsunade's shoulders curled forward, her eyes closing as she took another centering breath and released it. He heard the chair creak as she sat back down, heard the shuffling of papers on her desk as she went back to work – or searched for commitment papers, he wasn't sure – but all of it seemed distant, like a dream. If she took Sakura from him, he would….

"I'll put a request before the Elders that you remain on personal leave for a little longer," she replied. "I can't guarantee that they'll approve it … but I'll do what I can."

His eyes squeezed shut as relief flooded through him at her verdict. "Thank you, Hokage-sama." It wasn't much, but he'd take it.

"Now get out of my office. I've got work to do – such as reassigning this mission."

Kakashi wasted no time in doing what he was told. He hurried through the waiting room, uncaring that almost everyone was tracking his progress curiously, and disappeared into the first elevator that was available. His fingers gripped the handrail tightly in order to keep from falling to his knees right in the middle of the floor, but it did nothing for the tremors that made their way through his entire body. He had other duties to see to, things he absolutely couldn't shirk if he expected to keep at least one foot in Tsunade's good graces. How he was going to see them through when he was the closest to falling apart he'd ever been, he had no idea. But he needed to do something, needed some kind of reassurance….

His hands were forming seals before he was consciously aware of it and a moment later he disappeared from inside the elevator, leaving behind a cloud of smoke.


	3. Letters From The Sky

The garden surrounding the cenotaph was completely empty. It usually was around this time of day; most everyone who still paid their respects to the dead had already done so in the morning. That was why Kakashi preferred to go later in the day. He liked the quietude, the chance to reflect without distraction. But this time, he wasn't there to remember those who'd died. He was there to sort his thoughts out and, maybe, find some answers.

Kakashi sat down on the well manicured lawn that stretched out around the stone memorial and let his eye trace along the names carved over its surface. After so many years of doing this, the names were as familiar to him as any jutsu. He didn't know the faces or reputations attached to more than half of them, but he felt it was owed to their sacrifice to at least know their name.

Near the top there was a whole group of the Hatake clan: Yoshida, Tenabi, Mori, Akemi, Ita, Senji, Hiyoriku… The list went on and on, the results of the first Shinobi War. It was easy to trace each war by the placement and grouping of names on the cenotaph. Between those spaces were the lives claimed on routine missions during peacetimes. A few more Hatakes could be seen interspersed in there. His uncle, who he'd never met. A few cousins, his grandparents, and more whose relations he couldn't place.

His mother's name was about a third of the way down from the top: Hatake Hiromi. Pictures of her were rare; she and his father had only been married a few years at most before she'd died. But the photographs he still had of her proved her name was apt. She'd been a beautiful woman.

He still remembered her vaguely. He remembered her gentle smile, the sound of her voice. More so than the faint impressions from his childhood, he remembered the way his father spoke of her. There was never any pain, simply sadness for the fact that she was no longer there. His father used to talk about how they'd met, their wedding, what kind of woman she'd been. It made those half-recalled memories more solid, more lasting in his mind.

Much farther down was his father's name, Hatake Sakumo. It'd taken many years before he was able to look at the carved name for longer than few seconds. First, it was out of anger and bitterness toward the man who'd not only (so he believed at the time) destroyed their lives but abandoned him. But over the years, especially after Obito's sacrifice, he'd avoided the name out of shame – shame at how he'd treated his father in those final days, how selfish and cruel he'd been. He still remembered the look on his father's face when he'd come home wearing the mask that was now his signature. The flash of confusion dissolving into understanding and then a pain so intense it couldn't ever be expressed in words. It was two days after that when his father killed himself, unable to bear the fact that not even his own son would stand by him.

It'd taken many, many years to come to terms with the loss of his father, and it had taken his own death to be able to tell Hatake Sakumo how proud he was to be his son. Kakashi's gaze lingered on the name, his dark grey eye tracing over the characters as if to memorize the marks. He reached up, tugged his mask down so that his face was bear to the gentle breeze. That mask… it'd gone from being an expression of rage to one of hiding to something almost in way of a joke, thanks to his first – and only – genin team. It probably didn't serve any real purpose now, but he still wore it as a reminder of what it had represented to him.

His eye roved lower, automatically moving to find the next names on the list. Uchiha Obito and, a few rows below it, Rin. Kakashi touched the metal plate covering the Sharingan and said a silent thanks to the two of them, not just for the gift but for everything they'd been for him. They'd been friends when he'd desperately needed some, despite the fact he hadn't been aware that was what they were. They'd been teachers in their own ways, showing him that there were more important things than rules and duties. Obito had been his first true friend; Rin had been his first lover. There were so many firsts he'd shared with those two. So many more that they never shared.

It was as he was moving to the next memory, that being Minato, that he spotted a name he'd never noticed before: Haruno Hochiko. A slight crease formed between his brows and, before he knew it, he was picking out every single Haruno on the cenotaph. There weren't too many; the Haruno clan was very minor, mostly consisting of civilians and public servants. But they still had ties to the village, enough so that they could enroll their children in the Academy if they chose to. Most of the names were probably distant relations to Sakura: great-great-grandparents, fourth cousins, that sort of thing. But this Haruno Hochiko… They fell near enough in the timeline of events to be a closer relative, possibly an aunt or uncle. He wondered why Sakura never mentioned it before.

Unbidden, his mind imagined another Haruno name being added to the cenotaph, much lower and much newer. Kakashi sucked in a sharp breath and recoiled from the stone monument like it'd just attacked him. That one quick flash of imagination encapsulated his greatest fear, and no matter how he tried to shove it aside, push it back into the box it had unexpectedly burst from, it wouldn't leave. It was firmly implanted in his consciousness now and nothing would remove it.

The familiar heaviness began to creep through his chest, shortening his breath to the point where he started to feel lightheaded. Kakashi dropped to his knees in the grass, his fingers digging into the soft dirt. He bowed his head, squeezing his eyes tightly closed so as to shut out the cenotaph altogether. But that image, the one of Sakura's name carved in stone, remained behind his eyelids.

"Please," he whispered, unsure if he was begging the dead or a power higher than them. "Please, I … I don't know what to do. I can't lose her. I just … I don't know how to help her. Tell me how to help her."

The only answer was the wind rustling through the surrounding trees. It seemed not even the dead could provide him with guidance.

Kakashi sighed and sat upright, letting the blades of torn grass slip free from his fingertips – just like so many other things in his life. He watched the pieces flutter down to their comrades, all of whom remained nicely rooted in the earth. His gaze lifted to the cool, smooth stone of the cenotaph. This was normally a place of calm for him, somewhere he could go to think things through. Today was the first time since he'd started coming there that he was leaving more agitated than when he'd arrived.

He stood up, dusted his knees clean, and tucked his hands into his pockets. His eye lingered a fraction longer on all the familiar names before he turned around and headed back toward the village. There was still work he needed to do, duties he was obligated to fill. He didn't want to push Tsunade past her tolerance by completely foregoing his duties, especially when she was sticking her neck out for him and Sakura with the Elders. Besides, the sooner he got it done, the sooner he could go home.

Home. It was strange using that word in conjunction with their apartment. It certainly didn't feel much like a home anymore. Maybe what he actually meant was the sooner he could get back to Sakura.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of routine. There were follow up evaluations with the current genin instructors and team leaders, one-on-one training with the up-and-coming instructors, a meeting with the senior jounin to discuss the future chuunin exams being hosted in Kumogakure. He had reports to fill out, team assignments to finalize, and training plans to approve.

It wasn't strenuous work, but it was tedious and didn't at all help to distract him from everything that was going on. If anything, the monotony actually allowed his thoughts to dwell even _more _fixedly on it all. One question continued to roll around and around inside his head: what was he going to do?

That question remained unanswered as he went about his business, going through the motions of a normal routine. Through all the meetings and evaluations and paperwork, the only thing he could think about was what to do. It wasn't just the fact that he was on borrowed time; it was the fact that he didn't know how much longer _he _could keep going with the way things were now. He was trying to be strong, for the both of them, but the truth was that he could feel himself starting to break. The thin cracks were slowly widening, spreading further and further across his eggshell-thin resolve. It wouldn't be long now before they reached a critical point and crumbled entirely.

Kakashi finished his work and left, taking the usual route back to their apartment so he could stop and pick up dinner. The one saving grace was that no one asked him how he was doing, how Sakura was doing – or, worse, the attempts at vagueness by asking how _things_ were_._ As if reducing the situation to a _thing_ made it easier for him to talk about.

He tried not to be bitter or resentful toward the questions. The people asking were friends and legitimately concerned. But he didn't like the idea of answering and then having them go around telling other people. He hated to think that, at a time like this, people were gossiping about his wife's condition. He knew it was probably too late to wish it wouldn't happen, but he didn't have to add fuel to it.

The elderly couple who ran the small market recognized him on sight and immediately broke out in wide smiles. If they knew anything about what had happened, it didn't show. They just greeted him as always, asked what he was having today, and went about preparing it while he sat down at one of the tables by the window. The woman had been slipping in a couple extra dango sticks lately … but he liked to think it was because he spent regular money there rather than some unspoken form of sympathy. Or maybe she just had a crush on him? After all, feeding him was how Sakura had 'tamed' him….

He flinched a little at the memory of that conversation. They'd only been together for about six months, just long enough to be the steadiest relationship he'd ever had but still new enough that he didn't know all her personal quirks. She'd wanted to go on a picnic, had even (much to his surprise) skipped out on her duties at the Administration offices to do so. Kakashi had gone along with it. He wasn't particularly fond of picnics, but Sakura had asked and he'd realized around that time he would do anything for her – even allow himself to be dragged off into the forest with an enormous basket of food.

And that was all they did for the entire afternoon: eat, drink, and get sleepy. He'd known the minute she started pulling out dish after dish that she'd been planning this for at least two days. It took away a little from her 'spontaneously' deciding to shirk her duties for one afternoon, but he hadn't complained. He'd joked that he wasn't Naruto and couldn't possibly eat that much, and she'd teased that the quickest way to befriend a dog was through its stomach. She'd then spent a good amount of time trying to rub his stomach to see if his leg kicked reflexively.

It hadn't, though there were some other _reflexive actions_ involved.

A small smile curved his lips at the memory of that afternoon. How she'd been so happy telling him that she'd made everything the night before, how she'd watched him intently as he took his first bite, anxious to see if it met his approval. He remembered the horror that flashed across her features as he'd feigned disgust, the enormous bruise she'd left on his shoulder when he'd admitted that it was actually very good. She'd bribed him into eating some mochi with kisses and he'd demonstrated alternative ways of enjoying mitarashi sauce. It was easily one of his favorite memories of them together. That was, after all, the day he'd realized he loved her.

Kakashi's eye narrowed as he looked around the small shop. The grocery section was small and featured only a few locally acquired items … but there was more than enough there to make a decent dinner. He hadn't cooked for her in a long time. Cracking a couple eggs into a pan didn't count; he was talking about real, legitimate cooking that required chopping things up and using more than one pan. Perhaps a nice, homemade meal together was in order. Maybe if he talked about the picnic, or any other time when things had been happier, it might encourage her to open up.

It was a slim hope … but it was enough to get him to step back up to the counter and ring the service bell.

The old woman appeared from in back and smiled at him, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist. "Did you need something else?"

"Actually, I was wondering if it was too late to cancel my order," he asked sheepishly. "See, I just noticed how nice your produce is and thought maybe tonight I'd try my hand at cooking. But if you've already started it…."

To his surprise, the woman laughed and waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. It's about time my husband and I ate anyway."

Kakashi flashed her a grateful smile and said, "Thank you," before grabbing a shopping basket. The selection was rather limited, but he managed to find enough ingredients to do a chicken and leek soup. He brought his purchases up to the register, paid for them, and blinked in surprise when the old woman slipped in a small package of dango.

"For your wife," she explained. "She used to come here every afternoon for these."

A sharp pang shot through his heart at that new bit of information. He hadn't known Sakura had done that. It put a whole new light on why the woman always slipped him an extra stick or two. Kakashi swallowed hard and tried not to show how much her story made him ache. He took the bag, thanked her again, and hurried out of the shop.

The stairway leading up to their apartment was empty. Everyone was already out for the evening or settling in. He could hear them all as he passed by their doors: overly loud televisions competing to drown out each other, children noisily telling their parents about their day, infants screaming for attention. The combination of smells wafting underneath the doors was pleasant, a mingling of different spices and flavorings that reminded him he'd skipped lunch that day. All in all, their apartment building was very homey, very familial. It was why they'd chosen it over others that offered a bit more privacy.

Kakashi juggled the bags to one arm, freeing a hand to dig his key from his pocket. The door opened into twilight; it wasn't quite dark enough to be pitch, just enough to mute objects and cast deeper shadows. Sakura obviously hadn't left her room today. Well, no matter. _Other days_, he reminded himself.

He flicked the light switch just inside the door and the overhead light came on, spilling a warm yellow glow over everything. The living room was fairly clean, at least by his standards. There was a hamper of laundry that needed folding, some mail to be sorted (which reminded him; he'd forgotten to check the mailbox on his way up), and a couple empty glasses on the side table. Other than that though, it wasn't too bad. That meant he could focus his time after dinner to cleaning out the bedroom.

He took the groceries into the kitchen, glancing down the darkened hallway at the door. It was impossible to tell if she'd locked it or not and there was no light coming from within. Chances were she was asleep.

Kakashi set about getting their dinner ready, which was a simple enough affair. Chop everything up, toss it in a pot with some broth, set the rice cooker, and walk away. He scrubbed down the dining room table before setting a cloth over top of it – the one with pale pink flowers on it that she liked. The nicer bowls were taken out along with the glasses and silverware that rarely ever saw the light of day. All of it was wedding gifts, things Sakura insisted they reserve for special occasions. Technically, a Thursday night didn't really constitute as such … but then he didn't see the point in having tableware they didn't use.

He finished making everything look as nice as male judgment could before going back to check on the food. The soup smelled good, and a quick sip of the broth proved that the flavor matched. It would be another half an hour before the rice was ready, but he could start cutting up the fresh fruit and tossing it into a bowl.

Once the fruit was prepared, he stuck it in the fridge to chill. He left the packet of dango on the countertop for the time being. If he couldn't persuade her to eat the meal, perhaps he could coax her into eating her favorite snack. The soup was done and the rice was nearly so. Kakashi wiped his hands off on a dish towel and pulled his mask down. A pleased smile came to his lips as he took in his handiwork. Not bad, really, considering he didn't typically do this sort of thing very often. Now to get Sakura out and see what she thought.

Kakashi went down the hall and knocked on the door, waiting a moment before calling, "Sakura? Dinner's ready." When she didn't answer, he added in hopes of enticing her, "It's homemade chicken soup."

There was no response on the other side.

Disappointment started to wash over him again, killing off the thin line of hope that had ignited over the memory of their picnic. How stupid of him to think a home cooked meal would do the trick. Kakashi closed his eye, leaned his forehead against the doorframe, and mentally berated himself for being so foolishly optimistic. It was just another meal to her. Still though, he doubted she'd made herself lunch and she hadn't had breakfast; he'd seen the leftovers in the fridge when he'd put the groceries away. She had to eat _something_. His hand closed over the doorknob and twisted, opening the door just enough for him to peek inside.

Sakura was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him, staring at the curtained window across the way. At least she wasn't still lying down, he thought with some relief. She was still wearing the pajamas he'd put her in the night before. One camisole strap had slipped down off her thin shoulder and her hair was a matted mess. But that was alright. He could comb her hair out after dinner, get her into something else.

Kakashi entered the room, flicking on the little side lamp to shed some light in the space. He saw Sakura's back stiffened, heard her suck in a sharp breath, and paused as he was rounding the bed toward her. This was one of those times where she didn't want him near her. He could tell by the way her fingers clenched into fists on the bare mattress, in the fine tremor running through her. It broke his heart even further to know that the woman he loved didn't want him touching her.

He swallowed heavily and repeated, "It's time for dinner, Sakura."

She didn't move, didn't so much as look at him.

He waited a few seconds longer for her to decide whether she would go willingly before he took those last steps to bring him in front of her. Kakashi held his hand out and she recoiled, flinching like he'd threatened to slap her. Another piece of his heart shattered, possibly irreparably. But at least she was looking at him now – or, rather, she was looking at his hand. It was something at least, and right about then he would take any acknowledgement over none at all.

"Come on," he said, and despite his best efforts to keep his tone calming there was no stopping the thread of frustration from creeping in. "You haven't eaten anything all day."

After a moment longer where he stood there offering his hand and she avoided eye contact, Sakura finally stood up. She moved passed him, arms hugged tightly around her thin stomach, and made her way slowly to the kitchen table. He followed behind her, taking in the faint outline of vertebrae down the back of her neck, the hard stoop to her shoulders. Her hair was the longest it'd been in years, reaching just a little below her shoulders. It needed trimming; the ends were split and straggly. Maybe he could talk her into letting him do that for her after dinner.

She let him pull her chair out for her, but she waited until he'd moved to his side of the table before sitting down – avoiding any chance at contact, either accidental or purposeful. Kakashi sighed under his breath and picked up his spoon, not waiting for her to follow suit. He sipped at the broth carefully, but even then it was hot enough to burn his tongue.

"It's still pretty hot," he cautioned, even though he knew she probably wouldn't eat more than a couple bites anyway. "Sorry, but we're having chicken again. The store across the street had a special going on."

As was usual, Sakura didn't reply to any of that. She did, however, pick up her spoon, but it was only to stir the vegetables around and around in her bowl.

"I made some rice, if you want to add that," Kakashi offered, pushing the container of rice closer toward her.

Her eyes darted toward the rice but she made no move to help herself to it. Still, it was definitely a positive sign. It at least showed she could still hear him. But that didn't mean she was _listening _to him.

Kakashi watched her stir the soup around for a moment longer before pushing his chair back and standing up. He retrieved the dango, placing it in the middle of the table between them. The spoon stilled in her hand and her shoulders stiffened sharply.

As he saw her reaction, the old woman's words came back to him and he realized what a big mistake he'd just made. He'd only thought the owner's wife was being kind. Had he made the connection sooner… Well, there was no helping it now. The damage was done and the best he could do was try and soften it a bit. His smile slipped, but his voice remained cheerful as he explained, "A present from the shop owner's wife. She said they're your—"

Sakura stood up. "I'm tired."

He reached across the table, taking hold of her wrist before she could turn away completely. That closed off feeling was creeping through his chest again, spreading like a rash up his throat so that his next breath was more of a choke. She didn't look at him, but she didn't pull away either. Kakashi adjusted his hand so that their palms met. He brought her fingers to his lips, willing her to feel how sorry he was through the brief touch.

"I didn't know," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Her hand slipped from his as she started to make her way back to the bedroom.

"Sakura, please" he begged as he quickly followed after her. He caught her before she could reach the doorway, his fingers curling around her frail arm. She stopped, but she refused to budge when he tried to turn her toward him.

Kakashi sighed, his eye closing as he fought to control his mounting frustration. He could have forced her to face him, but not without hurting her. Instead, he took the half step needed to bring them together, her back to his chest, and circled his free arm around her waist.

"Talk to me, Sakura. Please," he murmured, his lips brushing across her ear.

There was a moment where he almost swore he felt her body relaxing against his. Kakashi's breath caught when he felt her hand cover his over her stomach. But any joy at her touch was short lived as she pulled free completely, leaving him standing in the doorway alone.

The door shut. Any minute now he knew the tears would start.

Kakashi stared at the door a few seconds longer, warring between the frustration telling him to storm in there and demand a response and his hard-worn patience urging him to leave her alone. Patience won out and he slowly made his way back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. The food was packed away, the dishes stacked next to the sink, the table stripped down. It was while Kakashi was tossing the dango into the garbage can that the first muffled sob came from the bedroom.

His teeth ground together tightly and the dango hit the bottom of the can so hard the bag burst and pieces of pink, green, and white splattered outward. Those tiny fissures in his resolve were crumbling at the sound of her tears. Every night for two months, she cried alone in that room. Every night, she locked herself away so that she could fall apart, while he fought with everything he had to keep them both going.

Hands fisted as he struggled to keep the frustration from turning to anger, he went over to the sink and jerked the faucet on full force. The dishes clattered sharply as he piled them into one side, added soap, and began scrubbing them with furious swipes of a wash cloth. Even after the sink was full of suds and water he let the faucet run, turning it to the other side of the split sink so that it could simply run down the drain. It was a waste of water, but the extra cost was worth it if it could drown out her tears.

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he swore her sobs became louder. He could still hear them over the running water, still make out the choked breaths between the harsh clanking of porcelain and utensils. A fine tremor made its way through him, starting with his hands and working its way up his arms until it had invaded his entire body.

His hands gripped the edge of the sink tightly, bleaching his knuckles pale, as the shudders became more violent, threatened to drive him to his knees. Something warm splashed on the back of his hand, followed quickly by another and another. It took him a moment realize they were tears and that they were his. That the tremors racking his entire body were actually sobs that couldn't get passed the tightness in his throat. He was crumbling down, breaking apart. Everything was spinning out of his grasp completely, spinning like the kitchen floor, the sink….

Breathe. Focus on breathing, on maintaining control. That was what he needed to do. He needed to breathe and hold on and not think about Sakura slowly killing herself over something no one could have prevented.

The minute those words entered his head, whatever shred of control he had left snapped. All the anger and pain and sadness simply exploded. A bowl shattered against the far wall – one of the good ones from their wedding. Another followed it, hitting the plaster hard enough to dig holes and bury porcelain shrapnel. The bowl of rice followed next, raining down sticky grains all over the kitchen floor. Glasses burst against the fridge, a chair was kicked into the wall.

Kakashi had just seized a colorful vase off the windowsill and was about to send it hurdling into the living room when he paused, suddenly comprehended what he was doing. The vase slipped from his fingers, thudding hard on the floor. It didn't break. He did though. He sank to his knees amidst the glass and food, his blunt nails digging gouges in the linoleum. There was no attempt to control the tears or the ragged sobs that came so fast and hard he barely had time to draw breath. Pieces of glass bit sharply into his hands, but he didn't do anything about it.

He wasn't a stranger to grief; it followed everyone who chose the ninja lifestyle. But this … he didn't even know what to call this feeling. It was overwhelming, violent, pulling him under like a riptide. It cut him to pieces, sliced through him more deadly than a kunai. Never in all his years had he ever experienced something so internally painful that he wished he could rip his own heart out so as to not feel it anymore.

He was losing her, might have lost her long ago and never realized it, and he was powerless to stop it. Perhaps Tsunade was right. Perhaps _he _couldn't save her. But maybe someone else could, someone trained to….

His eyes were raw and sore from crying, but he managed to open them just enough to look around their home. Apartment. Place. What did you call a place you lived in, had personal ties to, but no longer considered a home? He was depleted, drained so completely he doubted he could have scraped himself off the floor for anything. A full scale attack could start at that moment and he wouldn't have the strength or desire to do more than let the enemy cut him down.

Slowly, he became aware of another noise amidst the tears: a sharp tapping on the window in the kitchen. It was followed by the distinct call of a raven and another series of insistent taps to the glass.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his hand across his grey eye and looked at the window. There was no mistaking the darker shade of black against the inky twilight or the flash of a bright beak as it knocked against the pane, demanding his attention. He stood up and crossed over to the window, pushing it open just enough for the bird to hop onto the sill. It cawed at him again and turned to present its leg.

A thin roll of paper was strapped to it, bearing the Hokage's seal. Tsunade had obviously spoken with the Elders already and was now sending their judgment.

His fingers were shaking so badly it took him two tries to remove the tiny message and another three before he was able to uncurl it. He read it once … twice … and a third time because he couldn't believe it.

_Your leave of absence has been extended by one month, after which you report for active duty or will be imprisoned. It was the best I could do._

One month. Tsunade must have called in quite a few favors to arrange this, or else she now owed favors to others. And now he probably owed her more than his life was worth … but he was fine with that. She'd given him another month to sort things out. Right then, it was the best news he'd had in such a long time.

The raven flew off into the night, leaving him by the open window with the letter still in hand, his eye greedily reading the words over and over again. All that kept repeating in his head was 'one month'. If he couldn't break through to Sakura in that time frame, there was no doubt in his mind that Tsunade would force him to commit her for evaluation. It was more time than he'd dared to hope for, but would it be enough? He didn't know and, to be honest, he was hesitant to believe for one second that it would be. Sakura had been like this for almost two months now. How could he unravel all that grief and sadness in half the time it took to build up?

His eye swept over the living room, searching for something that might inspire a plan. Everywhere he looked, there were reminders: of them, of their life together, of their future. All around him were little things, such as the mingling of their possessions, the arrangement of their books on the shelves. There were the coasters on the coffee table and the ring marks from where cups were placed on the wooden surface without one. The juice stain on the couch from when he'd been sick and she'd stayed home to take care of him. The old, battered throw blanket from his apartment that she'd insisted they keep because it smelled like him. So many little things connecting them, so many reminders….

And maybe that was the problem. He clung to the mementos, used them like a lifeline to preserve the past … but she saw them as a constant reminder of what had happened.

Kakashi raked a hand back through his hair, his mind centering in on that one thought. Slowly, an idea began to form, which quickly developed into a full out plan. Bits of mashed up rice flaked from his knees as he paced back and forth in the kitchen, running over everything that needed to be done. There was so much he needed to do, so many arrangements to make in only a few hours. It was a crazy, mad, desperate idea and he had very little hope it would actually work … but then he was a crazy, mad, desperate man and he was willing to try anything to help Sakura. He hissed in pain as his pacing caused him to step on a piece of broken porcelain.

First though, he needed to clean up the kitchen.


	4. Bring On The Wonder

He hadn't gotten more than an hour or two of sleep at most, but Kakashi felt more awake than he had in quite some time. Today was going to be different. Whether for good or bad, that remained to be seen. But one thing was certain: things were about to change.

Kakashi had spent all of the night and most of the early morning hours getting things in ordered. He'd woken up quite a few people and probably owed them more than he could ever repay … but it was worth it. He finally had a plan, something more proactive than simply waiting and hoping for Sakura to come around. It felt _good_. It felt like he was regaining control of everything.

He got up off the couch, ignoring the protesting ache in his muscles, and went into the kitchen. There were a couple apples still and the dango from last night. That would have to do for breakfast; they didn't have time for anything more formal. He packed the items in a small travel sack and filled a couple canteens from the sink. They had a long walk ahead of them, and even if he couldn't coax Sakura into eating anything he knew she wouldn't refuse water.

Now that the food was gathered, it was time to pack and get Sakura ready to go. This time, he didn't bother knocking on the door. He simply walked in, turning on the overhead light without a care that her eyes weren't ready for the unexpected glare. As if to prove this point, her eyes scrunched reflexively against the bright invasion. She even lifted her head off the mattress, still obviously half lost in sleep and confused about what was going on.

"Get up," he ordered, adding just enough authority to let her know he wasn't messing around today. "We're getting out of here."

Sakura blinked slowly and pushed herself upright on one elbow, but that was all the reaction he got from her. She didn't make any move whatsoever to sit up completely or do what he said.

Ignoring her for the time being, Kakashi went over to the closet and pulled out two travel packs, one for her and one for him. He set the packs on top of the dresser and began pulling out clothing. Underwear, pajamas, socks… all the basic, comfortable staples they would need. Normally, he tried to make an effort to coordinate her clothes pleasingly, just as she would have when she cared about such things, but today he simply tossed in whatever he found that was clean. If she didn't like his selections, she could deal with it. Or complain. In fact, he _hoped_ she didn't like them and said something. At least it would be something different.

He finished packing and turned to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him. Some of the dullness had left her gaze and was replaced instead with a flicker of curiosity. That alone was enough to convince him this was the right course of action. He tugged the second bag closed before turning toward her, arms folded across his chest.

"Are you going to get yourself around or am I going to do it for you?" he demanded. He waited a minute or two for her to decide, and when she continued to sit there in utter silence he grabbed the clothing he'd set aside for her to wear and went about getting her dressed himself.

She smelled like stale sweat and morning breath, reminding him belatedly that he hadn't made her take a shower in a couple days. That would be fixed as soon as they reached their destination. She let him move her as needed, lifting her arms and positioning her body however he needed to get the job done. He ran a brush through her tangled hair before weaving the pink strands into a braid down her back to keep it out of the way.

When he was done, he pulled her up onto her booted feet, noticing how the clothing hung loosely around her shoulders and hips. At one time, those clothes had hugged her body comfortably, detailing her curves while leaving some to the imagination. Now … it looked like she was disappearing. In a way, she _was_ disappearing from him.

But he wasn't going to let her go without a fight.

Kakashi shouldered the heavier of the two packs and handed the second to her. She stared at it, as if unsure what to do. "I can't carry this all on my own, Sakura," he said, and the double meaning behind those words wasn't lost on him.

Very slowly, Sakura reached out and took the pack from him, fitting her thin arms through the loops so that it settled on her back. She waited, eyes fixated on the floor as if hoping it would open up and swallow her whole. Letting out a low breath that bordered on a sigh, Kakashi took her hand and said, "Come on. We've got a lot of road to cover."

She followed after him, just as docile and pliant as she'd been while he'd gotten her dressed. He grabbed the food bag off the table and stuffed it into the top of her pack before fishing out the apartment key from his pocket. They left and he locked the door behind them. There was a sense of finality to the movement that was very satisfying, almost like he was locking away all the pain from the last two months and starting fresh. One look at her, however, told him it wasn't as easy as all that.

They exited the building, stepping out onto a street that was just barely colored with daylight. There were only a handful of people about at that hour, mostly vendors getting ready to open up their shops or ninja returning from missions, but it was enough to make her body tense. Kakashi looked over his shoulder at her, saw the panic in her eyes, the pallor to her skin, and knew she was two seconds away from bolting back inside.

He gave her hand a tug and smiled in what he hoped was reassurance. "Let's go, Sakura."

It took another, harder pull on her hand before she stumbled after him, and even then he had to practically drag her down the street. People were watching them, either because of the obvious fact he was forcing her to walk or else because this was the first time in over two months that Sakura had ventured out onto the streets of Konoha. He wasn't sure. But all it took was a hard glance from him and those eyes were quickly occupied with something else entirely. This was hard enough on Sakura; he didn't need gawkers to make it even more so.

Every so often as they walked, he turned back to check on how she was doing. At first, she'd carefully kept her head bowed, eyes trained strictly on her feet, but the closer they drew to the main gate the more he caught her gaze flickering briefly upward. It was the first time in months she'd shown any interest in her surroundings. A smile crept across his masked lips and he said a silent prayer of thanks that the plan seemed to be working.

She grew even more bold as they left the village entirely, stepping out onto the main road that cut through the forest that gave Konohagakure its name. All around them, enormous oaks, maples, pines, and even a few delicate sakura trees rose upward, shrouding the sky so completely it was quite literally like walking through a tunnel made of leaves and branches. Only a few early morning birds were up and singing to each other throughout the forest, melding perfectly with the faint whisper of a breeze through the foliage. Sakura's eyes swept over the scenery, tracking the bird calls through the branches overhead, turning toward a squirrel cracking twigs somewhere deeper in the shaded areas. That curiosity which had always appealed to him was starting to surface again, letting him know for certain that the old Sakura was still in there somewhere.

It was only about six in the morning, but already the humidity beneath the tree canopy made drawing breath a labor. He knew it was only going to get hotter, but hopefully they would be at their destination before the worst of it hit. They weren't going very far from the village, just enough to put them outside familiar terrain. He would have preferred leaving Fire Country altogether, maybe travel further north to visit some long estranged relatives in Kumogakure, but he doubted Tsunade would have granted them both travel leave for that. She had already bent enough rules for them both.

The sun was approaching the nine position when they came to the split in the road that would either take them to Suna or deeper into the Fire Country terrain. Kakashi started down the latter, but stopped when Sakura remained rooted at the intersection. She was staring back toward the village and he didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking: all it would take was a quick surge of chakra to break his hold and then she could sprint back to the bedroom, retreat like she always did.

Kakashi's grip tightened around her fingers, not enough to harm but just to let her know that wasn't an option. She either walked with him or he slung her over his shoulder and carried her. Sakura glanced down at their joined hands, but when he took another step she didn't rebel. She fell in just slightly behind him and they continued on their way.

They didn't break until about ten in the morning to take some food and water. Kakashi used a kunai to slice up the apples, holding the pieces out on his open palm for her to take. He didn't say anything to her like he normally did at mealtimes, not because he didn't want to but because she always seemed to shut down whenever he opened his mouth. She hadn't eaten more than a mouthful or two over the last couple days. He would rather she do that than participate in small talk.

It seemed like he was finally starting to do the right thing in regards to Sakura because she ate more than half the apple wedges he offered her. She even reached for her canteen without him prompting her to. If things kept progressing like they were, he was confident she would return to being at least self functioning by the end of the month. The hope that rose inside him felt more real than it had in a very long time. Less like he was trying to convince himself that things would get better and more like they actually were. But he wasn't quite able to trust fully in it, not after daring so many times to believe only to have it crash and burn.

Once they finished their quick meal, Kakashi packed everything up and they were on their way again. This time, he didn't need to take her hand; she followed him willingly down the road, always keeping just close enough that he could tell it was really her and not a Bunshin no Jutsu. He felt a little guilty for that thought, but in a way she was like a cornered animal. There was no telling what she might do. If she did suddenly decide to make a run for it … well, he'd always been faster than her, even when she'd been healthy.

It got hotter as the day progressed and the humidity that clung to the air certainly didn't help with easing it. Kakashi could feel the sweat slipping down his face, dampening his hair and mask alike. He could tell it was affecting Sakura as well by the slight drag in her feet with every step she took.

The path was starting to climb steadily upward as they entered into the forested mountain terrain of Fire Country, and the higher they climbed, the more the scenery changed. All the oaks and maples began to give way to sturdy pines, the thick covering of ferns and berry bushes turned into low lying, springy moss. Even the bird calls were different. Gone were the high trills of songbirds. Now, everything was silent save for the occasional deeper call of a predator. It was much quieter than the deciduous covering that surrounded the village. There was only a few miles between there and Konohagakure, but it felt almost like an entirely different country.

The road narrowed to barely more than a well traveled path and took a sharper incline just as the first sound of rushing water began roaring in his ears. They were still too far down and at the wrong angle to see the waterfalls, but it wouldn't be much longer now. He could still very clearly recall the first time he'd laid eyes on this place, how impressive the cascade flowing over darkened rocks had been in its raw element. Kakashi hoped she would feel that same sense of wonder as well.

He spared a look back at her, eager to see if she was still taking in her surroundings, and paused when he saw she'd fallen behind a bit. Her hair was dark with sweat, her cheeks flushed from exertion, and she was doing little more than putting one foot in front of the other. Damn it, he hadn't considered how trying the hike would be in her weakened condition. He hurried back down the slope to her and she stopped in her tracks.

Kakashi took the pack from her shoulders and swung it over one of his, leaving his hand free to take hers once more. "It's not much farther," he said encouragingly. "Not even a quarter mile ahead."

She didn't reply or nod or give any indication that she'd heard him at all, but she continued moving forward with him. Once or twice, she lost her footing and nearly collapsed to the moss-covered ground, but he kept her from falling completely. Their progress was much slower, but then there was no rush to get there anyway. He stayed by her side, pausing when she seemed short of breath and making her take sips of water as they went.

Finally, they came around an abrupt bend in the path and emerged out onto a wide stretch of green – and the waterfall was directly in front of them. Kakashi was pleased to see her eyes settle on the water rushing down over the mountain's jagged edges, splashing and winding its way through paths it had carved over centuries into the rock face. It collected in a small pond that then branched out into several smaller creeks and tributaries before connecting again to form the Shirakaba River that bisected directly through the village.

She was so caught up in staring at the waterfall that she didn't notice the enormous house tucked back against the pine forest until he started guiding her toward it. The structure was made entirely of wood and glass, with windows serving as entire walls so as to provide the best view of the surrounding area. There were three stories and easily almost one hundred rooms. It was divided into four separate quadrants, each one with its own unique feature.

Sakura's lips parted as if she was about to say something, but she seemed to decide against it and followed him mutely up the steps to the main entrance. One of the wide double doors slid open and a woman stepped out. She was pretty in a very natural sort of way with chestnut colored hair, warm brown eyes, and wearing a simple blue yukata that accentuated her smooth skin. Kakashi smiled as she approached them; she hadn't changed one bit.

She already had her arms open by the time they stepped onto the wrap around porch. Kakashi wasn't much one for hugging, but he knew from experience that there was no getting around it with her. She would hug you whether you wanted it or not. "It's good to see you again, Rei," he murmured in her ear as she pulled him down to her.

"You too, Kakashi. Still haven't done anything about that crazy hair of yours, huh?" As if to prove her point, Rei leaned back and tugged an errant strand.

He grinned back at her while simultaneously pulling her hand away from his hair. She may not have held a kunai in nearly twelve years, but she still knew how to inflict a good amount of pain. "You haven't changed either," he countered. "Would it kill you to get a few wrinkles like the rest of us?"

Rei laughed and shoved his chest playfully. "Always the charmer." Her eyes shifted to Sakura, one brow arching in question. "Who's your friend?"

Sakura's shoulders tensed at having the attention shift to her and he slid a hand around the small of her back in an attempt to reassure and coax her simultaneously. She remained rooted to the porch, her arms hugged across her midsection and her gaze firmly slanted to one side and downward. Unperturbed, he made the introduction for her. "Sakura, this is Rei. She's an old acquaintance of mine."

Their hostess snorted at his words and rolled her dark eyes, but she didn't bother to correct him.

Ignoring the interruption, he continued, "Rei, this is Sakura. My wife." He added the last part just to see her reaction.

And was it ever worth it. He hadn't seen a jaw drop so quickly since the day he'd demonstrated a Thousand Years of Pain on Naruto. Rei's eyes widened and she blinked rapidly for several seconds while she processed what he'd said. She shook her head, swept a hand back through her chin length hair, and repeated, "Sorry … but did you say _wife_? As in someone actually _married_ you? Willingly, or did you have to genjutsu the poor woman?"

Any momentary triumph he'd felt in surprising her was obliterated with that one statement. Kakashi frowned hard at her (though he had a feeling it was more of a pout) and said, "Do you treat all your guests this way?"

"Only the ones who send their mutts to wake me up in the middle of the night to ask a favor," she returned even as she held the door open for them to enter. "Come on inside, it's getting nasty out here!" She smiled as Kakashi guided Sakura through the door, but he could see the lingering questions in her eyes. Despite having only just met them, she knew something wasn't right.

The interior of the resort was comfortable and exuded relaxation. There was a wide reception desk to the left, but the rest of the space was reserved for cushioned seating with a breathtaking view of the waterfall quite literally in the backyard. Although the majority of the main entryway was made of glass, the room was surprisingly soundproof.

"I'll show you to your room, let you get situated, and then if you two want to join me in the atrium for some lunch we can do some catching up," she suggested as she guided them up the flight of steps to their right.

As much as he wanted to have a talk with her, he needed to take care of Sakura and get her acclimated first. Kakashi affected his most carefree smile and replied, "I think for today we might just keep to ourselves, if that's alright with you."

The smile didn't fool Rei one bit, not that he'd been so completely foolish as to think it would. Her eyes flickered briefly to Sakura again, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she beamed right back at him and nodded. "Of course, so sorry. You guys had a long walk here and are probably dead tired. Sometime before you head back to Konohagakure though, m'kay?"

Kakashi flashed her a grateful look for her understanding and said, "Definitely."

She led them up one more flight of stairs to the third floor of the house and all the way down to the very end of a long corridor. Doors lined the walls at regular intervals, each one marked with a brass nameplate right below the peephole. These weren't the regular inn rooms; these were the luxury suites, and they were extremely expensive. Kakashi frowned and wondered if maybe this was part of Rei's revenge for contacting her so last minute. Welcome him like a long lost cousin and then rob him blind – such an underhanded thing to do. And so unlike her sister.

They stopped outside a door that was third from the end. Rei pulled a key out from the sleeve of her yukata and unlocked the door herself. She pushed it open and then held the key out to him with a little smile. "Room service stops at eight, but the kitchen is always open if you feel like whipping something up yourself. The laundry room is in the cellar. You do still remember your way around here, right?"

Kakashi nodded as he ushered Sakura by him into the room, taking the key from their hostess as he went. Typically, he knew each guest got a key … but he'd specifically requested there be only one and that he was to have it. In addition to being discreet and knowing when to not push, Rei also made certain to follow instructions to the last detail.

"Cleaners come through usually around ten in the morning with fresh towels and linens," their hostess continued. "Robes are complimentary, as is the first basic spa package. Everything else is extra … though I _could _be persuaded to give you a discount for old time's sake."

He gave a soft laugh at that and said, "You're so gracious."

Rei pouted and jabbed a finger into his gut. "And you're a pain in the ass. Just let me know if you two need anything."

"Will do."

"And don't forget you owe me lunch and catching up time."

"I promise."

With one final glare to impress the fact that she fully expect him to comply _or else_, Rei headed back down the hall, leaving them to get settled in their new home.

That was, essentially, what this room would be for the next month.

Kakashi shut the door, sliding the chain lock in place. He turned toward Sakura to find she was already curled on her side on the bed, her back to him. A low breath escaped him as he set about unpacking their belongings. He'd only brought the bare necessities for their trip, just enough clothing for each of them to last one week. He hoped. There was no doubt in his mind Rei would rake him over on laundry fees if he had to do it more often than that.

He had just finished arranging their clothing into the chest of drawers when Sakura asked, "Who is she?"

His hands paused in folding one of her shirts and for a moment he couldn't say anything. He was too surprised that she'd even asked. Finally, he found his voice again and replied, "I first met Rei nearly twenty years ago. I was seventeen, she was twenty-two. We were at a funeral."

Kakashi finished folding the shirt and slid the drawer shut slowly as the memory of that day came back to him. He remembered how beautiful the weather had been, how angry it'd made him that the sun had dared to shine so brightly. He remembered the way the sunlight had kissed the dark wood of the coffin and how he'd wanted to erase it from the sky … until he'd heard the woman standing next to him say it was only fitting that the sun would shine extra bright for the light that was taken.

He swallowed heavily and slowly turned to face her. Sakura wasn't looking at him, but he could tell she was listening. He went over to her, watched as her eyes darted briefly to him before returning to the far wall. "Rei," he continued softly, "is Rin's older sister."

This time, Sakura's eyes left the wall and met his directly. There was a flash of something in those green depths: pain maybe? Or was it sympathy? He couldn't tell and it was too quick for him to definitively pinpoint. Kakashi sat down on the bed, just close enough for her bent knees to brush across his hip.

"We stayed in touch after that for a bit," he explained, studying his hands where they rested on his thighs. "Mostly because we both couldn't deal with losing Rin, but also because we each blamed ourselves for what had happened. After she died, I joined ANBU and Rei gave up the ninja lifestyle. She came back here to help run the healing spa with her family and has been here ever since."

Kakashi fell quiet, his mind replaying everything that had happened twenty years ago as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. He still recalled the first time he and Rei had met up, how they'd simply sat together at the cenotaph: both crying, both trying to hide it from the other. Theirs wasn't as much a friendship as it was companionship. A coping mechanism for the pain. It was either turn to each other or turn somewhere else – or to something else. He was glad they chose each other, if only because the other options were much worse.

Sighing, he placed a hand on her knee and squeezed it gently. "You should probably shower. I'll see about having some food sent up."

Sakura obediently stood up and went into the bathroom. The door shut and was locked after her. Kakashi closed his eye and hoped the water would be loud enough to drown out her tears.

His plan was simple: take her away from everything that reminded her – their apartment, the hospital, the entire village – and start again. Regroup, so to speak. He'd originally picked this place because it was the closest they could get to neutral ground without actually leaving Fire Country altogether, but now that they were here … maybe it wasn't as neutral as he'd thought it would be. Maybe she would view this place and his attachment to it as a prison or something.

And yet … she was already showing signs of change. She'd been interested enough in their surroundings to look around, had even initiated conversation for the first time in months. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that this place could work miracles and that by the end of the week she'd be the smiling, happy woman he once knew – but there was hope, and it felt _real_.

He found the room service menu on the small side table by the door and ordered by pressing the letter and number options on a small device panel in the wall. It would print out an order form in the kitchen with the room number and selection and one of the wait staff would bring it up. Once that was done, Kakashi decided to get a more proper look around their room.

It didn't take long for him to determine that Rei had hooked them up with one of the luxury suites. The main room was where everything was located: television, enormous bed, sofa, a table with two chairs positioned near a long window with its blinds drawn back to showcase the mountain scenery. There was a set of wide, sliding glass doors on the wall with the bed that were frosted over with steam.

Kakashi went over and opened them, his eyebrows shooting up to discover the small courtyard beyond. It was enclosed with a wooden privacy fence, creating the illusion that this was their own little oasis. Potted plants were arranged nicely on the sandstone patio and vines of flowers clung to wooden beams overhead.

And right smack in the middle of it all was a natural hot spring. It was easily big enough for four people to rest in comfortably. Kakashi cringed and wondered just how much he was going to owe Rei by the end of this excursion.

He went back inside to find Sakura, her hair wet and wearing one of the thick guest robes, sitting at the foot of the bed. Kakashi slid the door shut and locked it before crossing over to her. She remained still as he combed his fingers through her damn locks, noting that she hadn't washed all of the shampoo out completely. He debated briefly about insisting she get back in the shower to finish the job, but decided against it. It wasn't like they were going anywhere.

Instead, he asked quietly, "Do you want me to brush your hair out?"

She didn't answer him, but he took her silence as a yes and retrieved her hairbrush from the dresser. He took a moment to take his shoes off before sliding onto the bed, moving so that he was kneeling at her back. Starting with the ends and working in small sections, he began combing out the wet, clinging tangles in her hair.

If anyone had told him five years ago that he would one day find peace in brushing a woman's hair, he would have laughed at them. Or walked away at a reasonably quick pace, as one should do when confronted with a crazy person. But here he was, brush in hand and reaching an almost Zen-like calm in sorting out his wife's hair. It was a darker shade of pink when wet, less candy colored and more of a deep rose. He couldn't see her face from the angle he was at, but he knew that the slicked back style from the shower left her face open, made her eyes seem wider and brighter.

Slowly, the brush began to draw its way further up her hair, stopping whenever the knots seemed almost impossible to unravel. And even when the task was done and the brush passed through those pink strands without contest, Kakashi still sat beside her. This was one of the few times she allowed him to touch her at any length and he wanted to savor it. He wanted to feel his knuckles graze across the back of her neck, feel her wet hair slide coolly between his fingers. It reminded him of the first time she'd ever handed him the brush and asked him to sort her hair out. He'd argued, but when she'd told him she liked the way his fingers felt in her hair … well, what man _wouldn't_ cave in to that?

He hoped that was still true. He hoped when he sat behind her like this that it reminded her of that time, too. Maybe it was his imagination, but it almost seemed like she was relaxing under his ministrations. He could almost swear her back hadn't been so close to his chest before and that her next exhale was more of a sigh. Kakashi closed his eye and leaned closer to her, craving to feel something more definitive from her.

A knock came to the door and the moment broke. Sakura's back stiffened and she quickly pulled her hair over one shoulder, away from his hands.

Kakashi stared at the back of her head for a second as a sharp stab of hurt shot through his chest. She was usually a little less blatant than that in avoiding his touch. Swallowing back the ache, he stood up and mumbled, "It's just room service."

He opened the door and a woman wearing another yukata entered with a cart. She was smiling and silent as she set their food out on the table. She bowed on her way out, shutting the door after her. Leaving them alone again with a quiet tension building in the air.

Letting out a low, discouraged breath, Kakashi motioned for Sakura to precede him to the table. "No chicken today," he said as she sat down across from him. "There's a vegetarian option, some beef, and a shrimp dish. I figured we could just pick and choose what we wanted."

Sakura made no move to fix herself a plate from the offerings, so Kakashi did it for her. He made sure to give her plenty of each selection, even though he knew it'd be a lucky thing to get her to eat even a quarter of it. For himself, he stuck with the lighter vegetarian fare. His appetite had disappeared on him again.

Neither of them said anything as they ate, though he used the action loosely with her. She more or less pushed food around her plate with her chopsticks, though she did take a bite or two when she caught him watching her. The frustration was starting to creep back over him again, and that very real hope he'd felt before was starting to fracture. It was disheartening to see the usual routine was starting to reassert itself.

Well, that wasn't going to fly. Not this time, and most certainly not here.

Kakashi set aside his chopsticks and took a sip of water before saying, "Just so you know, things are going to be different here."

He saw her chopsticks still in sliding a shrimp around the rim of her plate.

"First, you _will_ eat something. I don't care if it's the whole plate, half, just the radish … whatever. But no more leaving the table." He knew realistically there was nothing he could do short of force feeding her to guarantee this rule, but he put enough _or else _in his voice to imply that he could.

"Second," he continued, confident now that he had her full attention. "As you can see, there's a bed and a couch. I'm _not_ sleeping on the couch. And neither are you. Third, I – where are you going?"

"The bathroom," she replied as she pushed her chair back into place at the table. She paused, her hands resting on the back of it, and added, "Unless rule number three is that I can't use the bathroom."

He flinched at her wording and felt a pang of regret for even trying to establish ground rules. But then it occurred to him that perhaps that was exactly what she'd been hoping for, and suddenly his resolve was back and stronger than ever. His jaw muscles tensed as he answered curtly, "Ten minutes. No more than that."

She hesitated a moment before nodding and disappearing once again behind the door. Kakashi waited to hear her muffled sobs. There was nothing. He didn't know if he was relieved by the silence or if it worried him even more than he already was. He returned to his meal, his attention split between the food and the door as he waited out what was roughly ten minutes.

Just as he was thinking he might have to go and retrieve her, she emerged. He'd been expecting puffy eyes and a reddened nose; her face was just as pale and vacant as when she'd gone in. Kakashi studied her closely, his eye narrowing in suspicion, as she reclaimed her seat across from him. She picked up her chopsticks once again and went back to pushing the various samplings of meat and vegetables around her plate. He watched her a moment longer, but didn't push the issue of eating any further. It was foolish to expect an immediate change or compliance.

Once he was satisfied with the portion that she ate, he cleared up the table, placing the leftovers in the small refrigerator in the corner of the room. There was enough for dinner later and a microwave on the counter space to warm it up. While he was cleaning up, Sakura curled up once more on the bed: directly in the middle, on top of the covers, and with her back to him.

"There's a hot spring outside, if you're interested," he suggested casually. "It'd an enclosed space, exclusively for us. You should take a look at it."

The only response he got was her knees shifting closer to her stomach. Very well then. Kakashi tugged his gloves off one by one and placed them on the dresser. The flak vest came off next, as did the hitae-ate. He unbound his ankles, shaking his legs out to free up the pant legs, and tugged his mask down around his neck. His belt came off as well, along with the hip pouch. He could feel Sakura's eyes on him as he removed _Icha Icha Tactics_ from the pouch and crossed over to the bed.

Without once looking at her, he claimed the spot directly next to her and stretched out so that her fisted hands and bent legs were touching his side. If she wouldn't look at him, then he would _make_ her. Even if she turned over, it was at least a candid response. He continued to ignore her as he opened to a random spot in the book and let his eye scan the page, making it appear like he was reading when in fact he was waiting to see what she did.

Sakura stayed where she was for a few seconds before rolling away from him, putting her back and a scant few inches of distance between them. Kakashi closed his eye and tried not to let her reaction tear another piece from his heart. He'd wanted her to take action and she'd done that. He took a deep breath and released it slowly to regain control of his composure and returned to his book, this time making an effort to try and read it. The words were nothing but a blur, the meaning as empty as if they weren't even there. But he kept up the pretense; he had to. If he gave in now, she would always expect him to.

Time passed slowly in that silent room, marked only by the deepening slant of shadows as the sun continued its path across the sky. Outside, the waterfall was a dull roar of white noise that was occasionally interrupted by a bird chirping in the flowering vines on the patio. He listened to Sakura's breathing as it slowly began to even out, shifting from soft, trembling sounds to ones that were steadier and smoother. She shifted every so often next to him, usually to find a better position though there were a couple times where the motions were quick and harsh. Every so often, she mumbled snatches of words he couldn't quite make out, but other than that she was dead to the world.

The minute those words entered his head, he stopped even trying to read. His gaze shifted to her sleeping form, still wrapped in nothing more than a robe, and his throat tightened at the thought of not having her beside him. Of not being able to slide his fingers into her hair, feel the softness of her skin. Even of not listening to her cry alone in the darkness, refusing comfort.

Of seeing her name carved forever in stone.

Something warm made its way down his cheek and he rubbed it away roughly with the back of his hand. He couldn't lose her. He _couldn't._ He wouldn't survive it if he did. There were so many people he'd lost in his life, so many faces he wouldn't see this side of the grave again. Sakura couldn't join their ranks. It would destroy him.

Careful so as not to wake her, Kakashi reached out and traced a fingertip across the skin just behind her ear. She shifted at the feather light touch, an unintelligible murmur slipping from between her lips. It'd been such a long time since he'd been this close to her. He'd forgotten how beautiful she looked when she was asleep, how peaceful. Even now with the heaviness under her eyes and her shallow cheeks, she was still beautiful to him.

He remembered the first time that thought had crossed into his head. It'd been after a training session in the middle of summer. She'd just finished hurling Sai over her shoulder. As the other man had relearned how to breathe, she'd stood up, covered in dust and sweat and dirt, and grinned proudly at what she had done. That smile, the way it lit up her eyes, combined with the sight of her standing over her downed target … it'd frozen him.

And Naruto had used that momentary paralysis to take him down in what was still one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, right after losing bells over _Icha Icha._ He'd found himself backside down on the dirt with an orange clad groin dangerously close to plopping itself directly on his face. The kyuubi had gone and overestimated his leap, resulting in them entwined in a very suggestive position.

A faint smile touched his lips at the memory, but it also brought back the sadness. He wondered if he would ever get that woman back, the one who used to smile so sweetly at him, who could break the ground right under his feet with a stamp of her foot. He didn't love the woman sleeping next to him any less … but he missed the person she used to be.

Tentatively, Kakashi shifted lower on the bed so that his head was cushioned by a pillow and his body ran the length of hers. It was late afternoon now, bordering close to evening. The light streaming unimpeded through the window was duller now with soft tints of sunset slipping in. He didn't try to spoon her. He didn't even touch her more than he already was. All he wanted was to lie down next to his wife and remember what it felt like to fall asleep with her. It used to bring him so much comfort having her close by at night, knowing she was safe and not going anywhere. He wanted to feel that again.

He settled in next to her, closed his eye, and listened again to her even breaths. Without recognizing it, his own breathing began to align with hers: inhale, exhale. Slow and complete. His hands folded together across his stomach as each deep breath made him relax further into the mattress. Slowly, his mind followed suit and soon he was asleep altogether.

When Kakashi woke, it was much later. The room was completely dark save for the barest amount of moonlight coming through the window. He was still half asleep and his body wanted the other half to join it, but something had woken him up. Kakashi shifted across the bed toward Sakura … and found her spot empty, the sheets still warm from her body. He sat up, the panic that came with her disappearance snapping him fully awake in an instant. His heart was hammering as he searched the room, the sharingan coming to life as he scanned for any sign of her.

His gaze fell on the patio door – more accurately, on the nearly microscopic gap between it and the frame.

Kakashi got up and approached the door, his stomach churning in fear at what he might find. Cautiously, he peered out into the darkness … and nearly fell to his knees with relief to find Sakura curled up on the patio, well away from the hot springs. And very much alive. He could see her shoulders tremble with each raking sob.

She didn't hear the door slide open, didn't notice his presence until he attempted to pull her to him. Sakura jerked away from his touch, drawing her knees even tighter to her chest as the tears continued to fall. He tried again to draw her into his arms and this time she actually swung at him.

His jaw clenched. Again, he reached for her and again she struck back, batting his hand away with a ferocity he hadn't seen in ages. Kakashi took hold of her and forcibly dragged her onto her knees. She struggled and fought as he hauled her to his chest, his hands gripping her upper arms tightly. He absorbed her blows easily, grabbing her wrists when she sought to claw her way free, twisting her around so her back was to his chest and he had total control of her upper body. She continued to fight him, continued to resist, but for some reason he had the feeling it was more herself she was fighting – not him.

It didn't take much to subdue her, to _make _her accept his embrace. There'd been a time where she could have easily broken free, but not now. Even when fully healthy, she wasn't as strong as he was physically, not without the use of chakra. But she refused to use it, was _afraid_ to use it, and so the fight ended with him victorious and her firmly caged between his raised knees.

He could feel how wound up she was in the tight play of muscle in her back, the way she hardly dared to breathe, how she struggled to reel the tears back in. She wasn't fighting him any longer, but he wasn't sure if it was for better or worse. He was afraid that by forcing her he'd actually fractured her further.

Kakashi held her to him, one hand smoothing back through her mussed hair while his other arm kept her torso in check against him, willing her to understand through touch what he couldn't convey in words. Her cheek was resting on his shoulder, her face turned away toward the surrounding fence. He heard her sniffle and felt the moisture from her tears soaking into his shirt.

"Third," he murmured into her hair, his lips brushing across her ear, "no more falling apart alone."

And that was when she broke. The tears fell unchecked, ripping through her entire body as she came undone in his arms. Kakashi held on to her tightly and didn't say another word, simply held her like he'd wanted desperately to from the beginning. He was right there with her, had been all along – and always would be, no matter what.

He'd made that vow three years ago and he _never _went against his word.

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><p>Sooo... took a little liberty with Rin's backstory and all that. I'm pretty sure it doesn't disrupt canon too badly. Anyway, thank you everyone for reading, commenting, and just generally being very supportive with this. I appreciate it more than words can express.<p> 


	5. Heavy In Your Arms

*****WARNING: The content in this chapter might be triggering*****

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><p>It was morning again. She didn't know what day, didn't care to know. All she knew was that three others had passed since she'd been brought here and this was the fourth. Another day was starting, and it was one more than she cared to witness. One more night looming ahead, full of darkness and the terror of memories that replayed like the daily cycle behind her closed eyes.<p>

She didn't know which was worse, living with the pain or sleeping with it. When she was awake, it was all she could think about. When she was asleep, it was all she dreamed about. There was no escaping it, no release. She wished she could just slip away. But she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, it was always there, waiting for her. Making itself known in constant reminders that ate at her, tearing her apart from the inside out.

She felt so heavy, so weighed down with it all. All the grief, the heart ache, the misery and guilt … it felt like a lead weight inside her chest, crushing on her lungs and heart. There were days where she couldn't bring herself to rise under the heaviness of it all.

God, she just wanted it all to _stop_. She wanted to stop feeling these things, stop replaying it over and over in her head. She wanted to stop existing. The person she'd been – that happy, bright eyed woman who had stared back at her from photographs in the apartment – was gone. Not completely, not yet, but somewhere between living and dead.

And the one keeping her in limbo was asleep at her back, one arm draped across her waist like a tether.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Kakashi shifted next to her, murmured something against her hair. His arm tightened briefly, a subconscious act to assure she was still with him. What choice did she have? He was there whether she wanted him or not, held by a vow he'd made what felt like a lifetime ago to a woman who no longer existed. A dead woman. There was no bringing someone back from the dead.

There was still a part of her though that clung to him, a part that had somehow survived the destruction of her world. It was small and mostly relegated to the background of her mind, but every so often it would make itself known. It would force her to get up and join him at the table, let him comb out her hair. It made her want to sink back into the warmth of his arms, drink in how alive he still was, and hope it was enough to keep her going as well.

But it wasn't strong enough to overcome the guilt and pain that constantly gnawed at her, the uncertainty that haunted her dreams. She almost wished she could hate him for how effortlessly he seemed to let go of it all. Just pack it all away into boxes, shove them to the back of the closet, and move on with life. Eventually, if you pretended and lied long enough, it might actually become real.

He hadn't been there though. He hadn't been in that room, hadn't seen the tubes and machines. He hadn't felt the cool skin, mottled blue from poor circulation, or the pulse that struggled to keep going. And that was the problem. He hadn't been there when….

Sakura closed her eyes and bit hard on her lower lip to keep the sobs in check, but there was nothing she could do about the tears that rolled down her face and disappeared into the pillow under her head.

There was no bringing someone back from the dead.

She'd cried that night and every night since: for him, for her, for the fact that Kakashi had promised to be there. He'd _promised_. And he'd broken that promise. Maybe if he had, she wouldn't have done it. Maybe if he had….

She tried not to blame him, but sometimes she did. If he had been there, like he'd promised, would he have stopped her? _Could_ he have stopped her? But those were just 'what if' questions. It didn't change what had happened. The fact remained that she'd known the rule, known the _reasons_ why that rule was in place. And she'd broken them, all because she couldn't believe it – _refused _to believe it.

There was only one person she could truly blame, and that was herself. And that knowledge destroyed her, broke her under its weight. She couldn't bear it, but she could never ask someone to do it for her. Not even if, deep down, she secretly blamed them for the part they _didn't _play. This was hers and hers alone to carry.

Sometimes it felt so heavy she thought for sure it would crush her under its weight. Other times it felt so tangible she almost imagined she could reach around her shoulders and feel it there. But it never faded. It was always there, waiting for her. God, she just wanted it to stop haunting her.

The tears came harder, her fingers clenching the pillow so tightly it was a miracle the fabric didn't rip. She managed to control the sobs from racking through her, but there was nothing she could do about the tears. Kakashi shifted behind her again, only this time he didn't settle back asleep again. She felt him push himself up onto one elbow, could feel him staring down at her, and immediately feigned sleep. It took everything left inside her not to tense when his fingers traced along her cheek, touching the moist path the tears had left behind.

"Sakura?" His voice was a little raspy from sleep, but the way he said her name was soft and very nearly made her want to melt into him. He placed his hand on her shoulder, shook her gently. "Sakura, are you awake?"

She couldn't look at him, because as soon as she did she'd start to believe the lie in his eyes: that it hadn't been her fault, that there was nothing anyone could have done. It cut her deeply, this war between knowing what was and wanting to believe the fiction. She'd start to feel angry that he had broken his promise to her, and she didn't want it turning to hate. Not for him, not ever. She already carried so much. It tore her already aching wounds wide open, salted and rubbed them even rawer. If they were physical, she would have been bleeding out right there on the bed, she was sure of it. She reminded herself that he didn't know she'd been there. He didn't know that….

Sakura kept her eyes carefully closed, kept her breathing even, and silently willed him to go back to sleep, to leave her alone. He couldn't carry her grief and his as well. She was already over the edge, and he was going over with her like a weight around the ankles. He was killing himself by hanging on.

Why couldn't he just let _go_?

She heard him sigh before the bed tilted and evened out. The warmth at her back was gone and the coolness of empty air washed in to fill its place. She heard his bare feet move across the carpet before the door to the bathroom slammed shut. A moment later and the sound of running water came from the other side. It was much louder than what the shower was capable of; the sink must have been running as well. He was drowning her out, she realized. Drowning her out of his life, if only for a few minutes.

Slowly, she rolled onto her back, stared up at the smooth plaster ceiling overhead. Her body felt leaden, a physical manifestation of everything inside of her. He wasn't going to leave, she realized numbly. He was going to stay with her, for better or worse – until death do they part. That was what he'd promised her three years ago.

Her eyes closed. Her hand moved across the mattress until her fingers met the softness of his pillow. She dragged it across her chest, let it settle over her face. His scent clung to the linen, something that was both earthy and storm-torn sky at the same time. It suited him, she thought as she turned over again onto her stomach, pressing her face into the giving material.

It didn't take long for the pillow to become warm under her deep, stifled breaths. Every inhale was hard earned, every exhale was forced back into the cotton in a burning wash against her eyes and cheeks. The lack of oxygen made her thoughts hazy, almost nauseatingly so. She knew what would happen next, if she allowed it: she would lose consciousness and her automatic responses would take over, reposition her so that she could breathe again. She'd tried this before, when she was alone at night in the apartment. Each time, she would wake up to sunlight and Kakashi telling her breakfast was ready through the closed door.

Sakura turned her head to the side and the unimpeded rush of air into her lungs felt chilled after the oppressive heat of the pillow. There was no escape. She was trapped here, just as she was at the apartment, with the memories and the overwhelming culpability of what had happened. God, she just wanted it to _end_.

Her eyes, blurry from crying, settled on the dresser mirror across from her. There was a woman staring back at her from a rumpled bed. She was pale, wax-like, thin enough to be called frail. Her pink hair was tangled and fell over her like kelp dragged from the bottom of a lake. And her eyes … green and dull, empty of anything that even remotely resembled life.

She sat up, watched as the woman in the mirror mimicked her. There was no mistaking this woman for the one in the photographs, the one who was smiling and so sure of herself. Their hair and eyes were the same color … but that was where the comparison ended.

"Go away," she whispered to the reflected woman, watching as her lips moved as well. "Just go away."

But she didn't. She continued to stare back, a wraith in the glass. Sakura wanted to break it, destroy the woman on the other side.

Her eyes scanned around for something she could throw and settled on Kakashi's belt and hip pouch resting on the table. She could see _Icha Icha Tacics_ peeking from under the flap, could make out the odd lumps of other objects inside. Things like a summoning scroll, extra binding tape….

And a kunai. Kakashi always kept a spare kunai in his hip pouch.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright and slid her legs over the side of the bed. It was only a few feet from the bed to the table, but it felt like miles. She reached out and slipped her hand underneath the unsnapped flap. Her fingers brushed across his book, felt their way along scrolls and other unidentifiable items until they discovered something cool, metallic, and familiar in its weight. Her palm fit around the kunai handle as surely as it ever did and drew the blade from its hiding place.

She stared at it, taking in the thin black casing that protected reaching hands from its razor-like edge. The light in the room was brighter now and caught on the scratched metal handle loop. The grip was covered in well-worn tape, allowing her to see exactly how his fingers fit around it. Automatically, her fingers adjusted to match those imprints while her free hand carefully removed the protective case. The case dropped to the floor as she slowly made her way back over to the bed. She sat down at the foot, eyes riveted on the weapon.

Unlike the handle, the blade was polished to a high, reflective sheen. Her eyes met the green ones waiting for her in the mirror. Was it her or was there a thread of fear in that echoed gaze? Her eyes dropped to study the edge of the kunai, knew without touching that it was sharp enough to slide cleanly into a person's flesh. It was a weapon perfectly honed to destroy life.

Sakura looked up, looked at the woman in the vanity mirror. Her fingers tightened around kunai.

The kunai was slapped violently from her hand and went spinning across the carpet.

She'd barely registered the pain in her hand before she was being dragged to her feet by her wrist. She gasped, eyes widening, as fingers dug in hard enough to bruise. Her pulse was pounding, fighting against the constriction on her wrist. She looked up and immediately wished she hadn't.

Kakashi loomed over her. Water from the shower still clung to his skin, dripped from his hair. He was wearing nothing more than loose pajama pants … and he was beyond furious.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded harshly, the words falling bitterly from his mouth.

Sakura's lips parted, but before she could even think to utter a response he was shoving her away from him.


	6. And The Cracks Begin To Show

**WARNING: There might be some triggering concepts in this chapter. Also, to disclaim myself, the methodology in this chapter is completely fictional. Do not attempt this in real life.**

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><p>Her back hit the mattress and she hastily scrambled away from him. Her eyes were wide and her heart was practically hammering its way through her chest as she watched him pace back and forth at the foot of the bed. Kakashi's hands were shaking. It was the first time in all the years she'd known him that she'd ever seen his hands unsteady.<p>

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he repeated, his voice rising nearly to a shout. She flinched at his tone and her knees drew closer to her chest.

Sakura didn't say anything, but she maintained eye contact. Any words she would have said were long gone. Even if they hadn't fled, she doubted she had the voice to say them. She was frozen under his glare, unable to move or make a sound. He stalked around the side of the bed toward her and she recoiled when his hand flashed out.

But it wasn't to strike; it was to jerk her upright, to drag her so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. She could smell the mint on his breath, feel the air expel in ragged bursts from his lungs. At this proximity, she could also feel that the tremors weren't just in his hands. They ran up his arms, across his chest, even presented in the flexing of his jaw muscles.

"Did you stop for one second to think what that would do to me?" he continued, growling the question directly into her face. "You can't even _pretend _to care or try anymore? Is that it?"

She shook her head and pushed harder against him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her lips moved with unspoken words. Panic began to rise in her, making her breathing ragged. The need to get away was strong, made her shove her free hand against his chest. It was no use; even if he wasn't stronger, his grip was such that she couldn't have broken it anyway.

"I can't _go_ through something like that again!" he continued heatedly, his hand squeezing tighter around her wrist. "I barely survived it the first time, and now you're going to make me live it again? You might as well kill me now!"

She could see the tears in his eyes, clinging stubbornly to his lashes. One slipped free, rolling down his cheek. The rage was slowly giving way to something she couldn't identify. The closest she could describe it was betrayal, one that cut deep to the soul.

And then it occurred to her why: he was afraid. The tears gave way to full out sobs. He wasn't just angry; he was frightened. He was afraid of losing her, maybe even afraid _of _her. Her breathing was nothing more than choking bids for air as she struggled harder to break away. She couldn't look at him anymore, couldn't face him. She _had _to get away.

But Kakashi wouldn't let her go. He never had and never would. Sakura pulled back hard as he dragged her across the floor toward the chair. The kunai had fallen just to one side of its leg, and her eyes were immediately drawn to its polished surface. Kakashi bent over and snatched it roughly from the carpet. Her eyes rounded and the panic flared into full out terror as he turned back toward her. He forced her fingers open, clasped his hand over hers to make her hold it, and leveled the point at his own stomach – exactly where the cut should go.

Sakura shook her head, tried to drop the kunai. His hand tightened over hers, drove it closer.

"Do it," he ordered, his voice barely more than an enraged hiss.

He wasn't serious. He couldn't be. How could he think she'd ever…? She shook her head, tried to jerk her arm free. This was too much, too far.

His fingers squeezed to the point of pain. "I said do it, Sakura."

She shook her head more violently, closed her eyes as he dragged the kunai closer to his gut. She could feel the slight drag of it as it caught on flesh. Her arm was shaking with the strain of resisting him and her muscles were beginning to ache. Sweat was pearling between her palm and the grip; it could slip at any moment. Her fingers clenched the taped hilt more tightly than ever and she used whatever strength was left in her to keep that blade from budging any further. She couldn't do it, would _never_ do.

"Right here, right now."

Her free hand pressed into his shoulder, her nails digging hard enough into his flesh to leave deep red marks. The kunai met his skin again, this time cutting a thin line across his abdomen. Blood blossomed along the mark, a bit of it slipping down his stomach.

"I'm not playing around here, Sakura. Just get it over with," he goaded. His hand twisted her wrist, causing another bloody line to form.

"Stop it." The words were whispered, as if someone else were forcing them from her mouth.

"This is a thousand times more merciful that what you were planning."

"Stop it." Louder now. Stronger.

Something was flaring inside her, hot and roiling like fire. It took her a moment to recognize the sensation: anger. She was angry with him for doing this, for forcing her to hurt him, for adding his blood to everything else. For not being there when she'd needed him the most. And with that fiery rage came another sensation, one that was cooler and wove its way through her stomach, her chest, twisted down her arms. She felt it pulse along her muscles, encompassing them completely.

"Just a quick slice and then—"

"_Stop it! Just stop it!"_

A burst of chakra sent him reeling backward, all the way into the far wall. The plaster cracked with the impact and he slid down, momentarily stunned.

She fell to the floor, weakened by the rush of adrenaline and chakra. She was crying so hard she could barely catch a breath for the next round. Sakura remained on her hands and knees, feeling utterly broken and spent. Her arms were aching so badly it almost eclipsed the one in her heart. She heard his footsteps on the carpet as he came over to her. He didn't touch her, didn't come down to her level. He stood over her while she cried harder than she had in months.

"I can't do this."

The words so closely echoed what she was feeling that she almost swore they'd come from her. Her gaze remained fixed on his bare feet in front of her. But they were only there for a moment before he stepped around her – heading for the door.

She sat up, his name halfway across her lips … but he was already gone. He was gone and she was alone again, only this time with a new pain tearing at what was left of her heart. She hadn't thought there was anything left for her to lose. She was wrong. So very, very wrong. And now it was too late.

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><p>People were staring at him as he came down the stairs, probably because he was shirtless. Or maybe it was the blood. Either way, he didn't particularly care if he was ruining their getaway from the daily grind. He needed to think, needed air that wasn't being regulated through air ducts for maximum comfort. He needed to breathe in trees and earth and water.<p>

He needed _freedom_.

Someone called his name, but he didn't pause as he stepped out onto the front porch. And then he was running, his bare feet carrying him swiftly over grass and moss.

He leapt over rocks, using chakra when necessary to keep his balance and prevent slipping on the moist surface. Trees whipped by as he twisted around their sap covered trunks. The feel of pine needles, freshly fallen or dried brittle, cushioned the sound of his bare feet in the forest. Pine and maple were heavy in the air, filling his lungs with each breath. He just ran and ran, escaping, if only for a minute, into the forest.

He didn't stop until he very nearly went running right off the edge of a gully. Kakashi skidded to a halt, his teeth grinding as the chakra coursing through his legs and feet put a heavy strain on his muscles. There was a fleeting moment where he teetered on the very edge, stared down at the jagged rocks waiting below, but he quickly regained control and pulled himself away.

There was nowhere left to run, not in this direction at least. Why did every path he choose always end in a cliff? He looked further north toward the peak of the mountain and contemplated climbing to the summit. But would that be far enough? South, then. Just follow the line of the gully until it tapered into nothing. He could keep running then, all the way to the ocean. And even _into_ the ocean if that wasn't enough.

But then he turned around, back the way he came … and knew he couldn't. He could run to the ends of the earth and beyond, and he'd still come back to her. He would always come back for her.

As soon as thoughts of Sakura surfaced, so did the image that was burned behind his eyelids – the image that had sent him racing out into the forest and away from her in the first place. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes until white spots flared, but he could still see her holding that kunai. He could still see the way she'd stared at her reflection, the loathing and hate in her eyes for the woman reflected back. And with it came another memory, one she wasn't part of: a man lying face down on the floor of a sparsely furnished apartment with blood haloing around his upper body.

He couldn't do it again. He couldn't go through the pain of coming home to find someone he loved dead, killed by their own hand. Reflexively, his fingers brushed across his bare cheeks where the mask should have been. His chest was heaving, but not from running. Each breath was choked, haggard, difficult to get through his tight throat. All he saw was his father on the floor, only the image kept shifting. The body became slimmer, the hair much longer and a very distinct shade of pink. The hand still curled loosely around the kunai was slender and delicate. Feminine.

A scream tore through him, one that ripped through the forest and sent birds flying from their perches. It was rage and frustration, pain and grief. Every last shred of emotion he'd kept bottled up inside him poured out in that primal sound. Birds were shrieking all around him, high pitched and furious. Blue-white light blinded him for a split second and then there was nothing but smoking trees, smoldering moss, and charred rock in front of him for as far as he could see. His entire palm was stinging, burned bright red as if he'd just placed it in boiling water.

"That's being put on your tab, you know."

Kakashi whipped around toward the unexpected voice, blinking as sweat slipped down into his eyes. The sharingan adjusted as Rei moved toward him, thin blue outlines tracing every potential move she might make before solidifying once a single action was taken. "What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, his voice coming out cracked and hoarse.

Rei carefully kept her eyes focused on the rocks she was navigating in geta, her arms extending for added balance. "You come running down the stairs wearing nothing but pajama pants with blood on your stomach, and you wonder what I'm doing here?" she questioned back. She came to stand next to him, gazing out over the destruction he'd leveled on her land. "I think it's time you tell me what's going on, Kakashi."

He didn't say anything for the longest time, mostly because he didn't know how to say it but partly because he'd never said it out loud to anyone before. No one had, not when it had happened and not afterward. It was always referenced vaguely, hidden behind general questions and indistinct responses. All those _how__are__things_ inquiries and his _things__are__what__they__are_answers. They were all ways to avoid saying it, to keep it from becoming real through words.

And maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe he was running from it as well, using Sakura as an escape. He was pouring himself into keeping her alive so that he didn't have to face the fact that they … that what had happened was….

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, answering her question without actually doing so. "It feels like the only thing I _can_do is watch her struggle and hope that she'll somehow pull through it all. I don't know how to help her or how to make her see that she's not alone."

Rei sighed, a long, low sound that was a combination of many things: thoughtfulness, sorrow, sympathy. Her hand reached between them, her fingers twining with his in silent comfort. "You can't help someone unless they realize they need it, Kakashi. And even then, they have to be at least willing to try and help their self. It's a give and take, and it won't work if it's not equivalent."

"I'm scared." The words were low, barely more than a whisper, but she heard them.

She turned toward him, her eyes narrowing as she studied his profile intently. "Of what, losing her?"

Kakashi nodded, felt his stomach lurch sickeningly at the thought.

"Maybe you already have," she countered, rubbing her thumb in gentle circles along his. "Or maybe you've only lost the person she was."

"I… I just want things to be like they were before. I want her to smile and laugh like she used to. I want what we had."

"You can't ever get it back. You should know that. Death changes those it touches … but that doesn't mean you can't find _new_happiness." She paused a moment, considering him silently. "Perhaps instead of fixating on how to make things like they were in the past you should look to making something better out of the future?"

He didn't have a response to that. Part of him, the one that clung to mementos and memories, still insisted that he could return everything the way it was. But another part of him saw the truth in what she said. How many times had death changed him over the course of his life? Why should this time be any different? Why should _Sakura_be any different?

Kakashi broke from his thoughts when Rei sighed again and gave his hand a small tug.

"Listen," she said, "I just want you to know … I'm here for you, okay? Doesn't matter when or where. If you need someone to talk to, find me. Got it?"

He squeezed her hand appreciatively and murmured, "I know."

She squeezed back and put on a convincing smile. "Good. Oh, no offense or anything, but do you mind if we circle around the back to use the delivery entrance? It's kind of bad for business to have a bleeding guest."

"You could always heal it," he suggested, even as he glanced down to see how bad it really was. The cuts were all shallow things, nothing more than deep scratches. It didn't look bad, at least in his opinion … but then Sakura always said his definition of 'badly injured' was beyond skewed, so what did he know?

Rei let out a short, barking laugh and shook her head. "Do you know how long it's been since I've used chakra like that? Knowing my luck, I'd mess up your adorable belly button and then end up getting my ass kicked by your wife. But here." She handed him a small foil packet containing a sanitizer wipe. "If you can clean it up a little, I think you'll be presentable enough to go through the front."

Kakashi took the packet and tore it open. His stomach muscles flinched at the sting of medicinal alcohol across the scratches, but he had to admit it made a difference. Without the dried blood around the wounds, it looked more like he'd gotten on the wrong side of a three-toed feral cat.

And judging by the satisfied smile Rei gave him, he was now presentable enough for the main entrance. "There we go. That's _much_better," she commented as he tucked the used wipe into his pocket. "Come on, we should get going. I've got a nine-fifteen massage I can't miss."

They walked back together in silence, save for the occasional muttered curse Rei uttered whenever she had to very gingerly pick her way through the underbrush in a full yukata and geta. He could feel the faint pulse of her chakra as she used it to keep her balance. Kakashi gave her a hand every now and then through the minefield of twisting roots and hidden holes.

It took awhile before the roof of the house finally peeked out over the treetops. By that time, the temperature had hiked up considerably. Sweat dotted across his brow and when he spared a glance at Rei he could see her hair was damp and clinging to her cheeks. There were also dark stains forming across the back of her pale yukata and just under her arms … but he refrained from pointing that out to her. She looked annoyed enough as it was.

Finally, they emerged on the wide, sweeping lawn that led up to the house. Kakashi had just started up the slope when he realized Rei wasn't walking with him. Thinking perhaps she'd run into another wardrobe obstacle, he turned to assist her only to discover she was staring past him at the porch. He followed her gaze … and his heart skipped a beat.

Sakura was sitting on the topmost step, staring at her folded hands. As soon as she became aware of their presence though, her gaze snapped up and met his. There was so much in that one look, so many emotions passing swiftly across her features. But what caught and held him was the spark that was in her gaze. It was steady, almost defiant, and it was very much alive.

He was aware of Rei coming up alongside him and giving his shoulder a pat. "I think this is my cue to leave," she murmured before slipping off around the side of the house.

They were alone now, just them and a whole lot of things that needed to be said.


	7. Little Talks

It was hard to tell whether the lightheadedness was from nerves or the sight of him. In the full light of day, the physical changes in him were much more apparent. There was a gauntness to his frame where before had been sleek muscle. His skin had taken on a pallor that made every scar stand out more clearly: the long slash mark across his chest, the thin slices of numerous kunai that just barely missed striking a fatal blow, the line that bisected his eye.

So many injuries he'd suffered over the years. So many, many scars. Yet none of them could compare to the wounded look in his eye. It was fresh and bleeding with an agony that ripped at the very core of him.

And she was the one who'd dealt that blow.

For a long time, neither of them did anything. They simply stared at each other across the lawn with nothing but the waterfall and the wind to break the stillness. Those few feet of grass might as well have been an ocean; there was much more than physical distance between them.

He took the first step, as always. She stood up as he approached, her stomach knotting nervously and her heart racing. Sakura's fingers twisted together anxiously as he approached, his gaze hardening the closer he got. He was angry still and she couldn't say she blamed him. But it went much farther than that. She could see the fear that lingered in his gaze, and the fact that it was so clearly visible told her how deeply it ran. Even under the absolute worst situations, his poker face was usually unrivaled.

Kakashi stopped at the bottom step and looked up at her. Waiting.

She took a deep breath, smoothed her shaking hands down her thighs, and swallowed hard. "I don't know what to do," she admitted in a thin, broken voice.

His features soften marginally and his fisted hands relaxed by his side. "Talk to me," he replied with an edge of coolness. "That's all I've ever asked of you."

"I… I don't know how. I don't even know where to begin." A tear caught briefly on her lashes before spilling over. It was different this time, born more out of weakness and desperation than grief.

He moved up onto the first step, putting their eyes on the same level. "This here," he said, indicating the reduced space between them with one hand. "This is a good start."

Sakura nodded, her eyes closing as another tear escape. She felt his hand cup her cheek, his thumb catching the drop and brushing it away. Slowly, her fingers trembling, she covered his hand with her own. She sank back down onto the steps and he joined her, sitting close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body along her side. She didn't shy away from it like she would have before, nor did she simply allow it. She embraced the warmth, the life that rolled off of him.

He kept hold of her hand in both of his and remained patiently quiet while she tried to organize her thoughts into words. Her mouth opened, closed, and finally, without looking at him, she whispered, "I _never_ meant to hurt you. I just… It's so difficult."

"I get that," he said, rubbing her hand gently between his, spreading heat slowly back into her skin. "It's hard for me, too. But it wouldn't beas hard if we helped _each other_."

She didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to properly explain that he couldn't understand what she was going through. She couldn't let him know that she'd….

He sighed and twisted around on the step so that he was facing her. "I'm here for you, Sakura. No matter what."

A sob caught in her throat. It felt like someone had reached inside her chest and was wringing her heart. There was no numbness to take her, not while he was nearby. The lack of it allowed emotions to ebb through her, some familiar and some so foreign they felt new again.

She nodded and used the back of her free hand to wipe her eyes. "I know."

"Really? Because sometimes I don't think you do. I've tried over and over again to show you that you're not alone, that you can _trust_ me. It always ends with you pushing me further away."

Sakura turned toward him, her eyes darting over his features searchingly. "What do you want from me?" she asked.

Kakashi shook his head. "Nothing. Just talk to me, that's all."

Talk to him. It sounded so easy when he said it, but the reality was much different. She didn't know what to say, where to start, how to put into words everything going on inside her. She wasn't even sure it was possible to quantify it all verbally. None of the words that came to mind were even remotely close to describing what she was feeling or thinking. Even if she was able to relay it all in words, she didn't know if he would _want _to know the truth.

She heard him inhale deeply and then he was standing up. Her heart lurched, panic shooting through her like poison as one thought screamed through her mind: he was leaving again. Because she couldn't say something. He was leaving her, probably for good, and there was nothing….

A hand was extended toward her, palm side up. A hand with strong, tapered fingers sporting calluses and tiny nicks. She recognized the more prominent scar cutting across the length of it very well.

"Come on," he said, speaking gently but with an edge of authority that even now, after everything they'd been through, was impossible to deny. "I have an idea … but you have to agree to try. Can you do that?"

Sakura continued to stare at his offered hand, hesitant even in light of possibly losing him forever. Her gaze began to shift away … but then she caught sight of the fresh marks on his stomach. The scratches and cuts left from the kunai they'd fought over.

Slowly, she placed her hand in his, lifted her eyes up from his marred stomach to meet his evenly. "Yes," she said, and she was surprised by the amount of conviction that came through in that single syllable.

Relief softened his features, relaxed the tension in his body. His fingers were warm and firm as they close over hers. He helped her to her feet and, still holding her hand, led her back inside.

He took her back to the room, to the rumpled bed and the drape-shrouded windows … and the kunai. It was still on the floor where she'd dropped it, cold and stained with flecks of blood. His blood. She could still feel its weight in her hand, feel the slight resistance his flesh had given as that sharpened edge cut into him.

She turned away, unable to look at it anymore. She didn't want to relive what had happened – what _could _have happened if her hand had slipped or if he'd pulled harder. It's been a risky, brash, reckless thing to do … but it'd opened her eyes. It'd made her realize that there was still something for her to lose, something she was closer to losing than she'd realized. She wasn't saying that everything was okay now. But she was going to try for him.

The bedroom wasn't their final destination, however. Kakashi guided her by the hand into the bathroom. There was evidence of his interrupted toiletries from that morning: his shaving kit was left open on the countertop with half its contents spilled around it, a wet towel was draped over a bar to dry, and his shirt was on the floor where he'd dropped it. Condensation still beaded across the frosted window pane, catching in the sunlight like fresh ice droplets.

He let go of her hand to lean over the wide bathtub and turn the spigot. Water flooded from the faucet, falling into the oblong tub. He closed the drain, placed a couple towels within reach on the closed toilet seat, and added a little bath oil to the water. Soft floral scents permeated the rising steam: chamomile, lavender, a touch of sandalwood. All herbs meant to calm and sooth.

And then he reached for the waistband of his pants.

Her eyes widened slightly when the fabric fell around his ankles. He kicked the pants over to join his discarded shirt.

He was standing naked in front of her. Heat rose up her neck to her cheeks as she stared at his bare body, feeling awkward and unsure which was strange considering she'd seen and tasted and explored every inch of his skin. She knew the line of his hip bones very well, recognized the small birthmark on his right thigh. Her hands were familiar with the feel of his arms, the firmness of his rear … his penis, both aroused and at rest. But for some reason, and maybe it was because it'd been such a very long time since she'd seen him so intimately, it felt like the first time all over again.

Her thoughts were disrupted when he turned from her and stepped into the tub. He shut the water off and leaned back on the far side of the tub. Facing her. Waiting for her to make a move.

To try.

Taking a shivering breath, Sakura reached down and slowly pulled the lower hem of her camisole up and over her head. She didn't know what he was doing or what the point was … but she'd promised she would try. The pale pink fabric hit the tiled floor, and the cross current of warm and cold air made her suddenly exposed nipples tighten. She was very aware of him watching her as she shimmied out of her bottoms, adding them to the small pile of clothing to one side of the door. Trying to ignore his gaze and the blush that was now burning full force across her face, she gingerly stepped into the tub and joined him, sitting with her back to the opposite end so their feet and calves were brushing in the scented water.

He was staring at her across the short distance with a small, satisfied smile on his lips. Even if this plan of his failed – whatever that plan was exactly – she knew he was at least happy to see her keeping her promise. Sakura shifted her knees a little higher to shield her chest and waited for him to explain what they were doing.

"Look at me," he instructed.

It took a little effort, but she managed to peel her gaze from the shower surround to look at him, naked and wet and endlessly patient.

"This is it," Kakashi said, indicating his bare torso with one hand. "No barriers, no mask, nothing to hide behind. Just you and me. So… let's talk."

Talk? Like this? She pushed her hair back behind her ear and tried to find a neutral place to avert her eyes. She understood now what he was getting at, but … well….

Kakashi shifted across from her, slouching lower in the water, and her eyes darted back to him. "Do you remember how we began?" he questioned, bringing his hands together to form a cup. He lifted them out of the water and studied the small pool he now held.

Her brow furrowed slightly. "You mean at the Academy?"

"No, I mean how _we_ began. Us. Do you remember that day?"

A memory surfaced, hazy and indistinct like it belonged to someone else. And maybe it did and maybe she was just rearranging the details to fit the situation: changing the woman's hair to pink, the man's to white. The woman in her head was smiling and the man was glancing at her from the corner of his eye, his gaze a mix of amusement, mischievousness, and a little heat. She recalled the way his eye had lowered to her mouth, the feel of his fingers brushing her cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. The more she replayed the memory, the more set the details became. The more realistic. The more _hers._

"The sakura festival," she murmured out loud, the words falling automatically from her tongue.

She wasn't looking at him, but she knew he was smiling. "You were supposed to meet Ino—"

"—But she'd ditched me last minute because Chouji had asked her to go with him."

Kakashi nodded encouragingly. "You were standing under the red maple in the middle of the park."

"It was hot outside."

"And you were wearing a pale green yukata."

"Sage," she corrected.

His head tilted questioningly. "Pardon?"

"The color. It was sage, not pale green."

"Ah, my mistake. It still drew attention to your pretty eyes."

Sakura felt the corners of her lips twitch at the compliment. She studied her knees poking through the surface of the water, let her arms relax marginally across her chest. "You bought me dango."

"And it was embarrassing as hell … but worth it. It kept you with me the rest of the day."

Sakura didn't say anything to that. Not because she couldn't or wouldn't, but because she sensed he wasn't done, that there was something more.

After a pause, he took a breath, released it slowly. His breath stirred across the surface of the water, sending gentle ripples out to break against her raised knees. "I still think about you like that, you know," he continued, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "I still think about the way you used to smile, how it lit up your entire face. I think about how strong your heart is, how much you're capable of feeling toward others." He paused and parted his hands, letting the contained water cascade back into the tub. "I miss that. I miss _you._"

She swallowed heavily, rubbed her hands up her arms despite the fact that the water was plenty warm enough. "I don't know if I can be that person again," she whispered hoarsely.

"I think you're right," Kakashi agreed, much to her surprise. She glanced up at him, saw that there was an edge of sadness creeping into his eye. "For the last two months, I've struggled and fought to try and turn back time. But today, I realized that can never happen. You can't be who you were before … and I can't make you. All I _can _do is be there for you as you figure out who you are now."

Her features scrunched briefly in confusion. She shifted uneasily, causing the water to move in response. This wasn't at all what she'd been ready for. She'd expected him to vent his frustrations, to tell her he was through, that he couldn't stay with her anymore. She'd expected that he would pack his bag and leave her there to find her own way back. But this… she didn't know what to do with it.

Kakashi sat up straighter, leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his raised knees. "I'm not going to lie to you, Sakura. These last couple months have been beyond frustrating and painful. You have no idea how many times I've come close to just walking out, to saying to hell with this. It's been tough trying to keep it together while you fall further and further apart."

"Then why didn't you leave?" she asked, unable to keep the bitter bite from her words. "Why did you keep coming back?"

"Why do you think?"

Sakura closed her eyes, bit her lower lip to try and keep the tears in check. She was so tired of crying. Shaking her head, she whispered, "I don't know."

"Liar."

That one word made her eyes open, made her look across at him. A faint smile was curving his lips, one that was equal parts sad as it was happy. Even if she didn't say it, he knew she really did know the reason why. She just didn't want to believe he still loved her, _couldn't_ believe it. It wasn't real, a voice in her head insisted. If he knew what had happened….

He broke eye contact, his smile fading slowly from his lips. He sighed and leaned back again, letting his head tilt back against the surround. "Why can't you believe that?" he asked, and there was a sharper undercurrent that was impossible to miss.

She shook her head again, wrapped her arms more tightly across her torso. "I'm sorry. I wish I could."

Kakashi closed his eye and the muscles in his jaw tightened out of frustration. 'I wish you could, too."

"But I'll try to," she added quickly, peering at him nervously from beneath her lashes.

He lifted his head, both eyes opening to study her closely. A thread of disbelief crept across his features.

Sakura met his doubt head on. "I'll try," she said again, this time with more certainty.

Kakashi was silent for a moment and then his features softened into a grateful smile. But it was only there for a few precious seconds before slipping back into a frown. "I'm sorry."

Brow furrowing in confusion, Sakura asked, "For what?"

He made a vague gesture toward the other room and clarified, "For what happened in there. I shouldn't have done that. It's just … when I saw you sitting there with the kunai in your hand, I…."

"You panicked," she supplied when he didn't finish.

Kakashi's eye closed as he gave the barest of nods. "That's the first time in my life I've ever been so terrified I couldn't think." He paused, swallowed hard, and added, "I don't ever want to feel that way again."

Sakura sucked her lower lip between her teeth and stared down at her bare knees, lost as to what she could possibly say to that. She didn't want to make any promises to him; even now, she still wasn't certain about anything. But she needed to do _something_ to at least show she was making an effort. She wrapped her arms more snugly across herself, her feature flinching a little at the soreness left behind in her muscles from the earlier outburst of chakra. An idea came to her, one that carried the sharp edge of fear with it.

Slowly, she shifted onto her knees in the water, immediately drawing his attention to her. Without looking him in the face, Sakura positioned herself between his legs. Her hand was trembling as she placed it on his stomach, right over the shallow cuts left behind by the kunai. She took a deep breath, released it, and held the next inhalation in her lungs as she tentatively sought out the chakra inside of her.

It came quickly, almost joyfully, to her summoning, as if it was ecstatic to be put to use again. Her insides churned sickeningly at the familiar green glow being reflected up from just under the water's surface, glimmering along the swirls of bath oil like tiny strands of jewels. In her mind, the skin she touched wasn't so firm and warm. It was grey-tinged, mottled with deeper purple-black splotches hardly visible beneath all the gauze and tubes connected to machines.

The bathroom shifted, darkened. Instead of pleasantly aromatic scents, the pervasive burn of medical grade antiseptic invaded her senses. In the background of her mind, she could hear the machines: the hushed sound of the ventilator, the underlying growl of the temperature regulator. The uneven ping of the heart monitor. And with each ping came an accompanying throb from beneath her hand, moving _into_ her through the chakra connection, driving up her arm until it became her own. That was her heart struggling to pump blood through damaged tissue. Her heart fighting for each pulse and the one after. Her heart that—

A large, warm hand covered hers. Sakura gasped as she was ripped away from the darkened room and thrown back into the slowly brightening bathroom. She blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the lingering images and sensations from her eyes. A violent shudder ran down her spine as she quickly yanked her hand away and back-peddled to her side of the tub again, the remnants of that secondary heartbeat still pulsing through her veins.

Kakashi was watching her, his features carefully neutral. But there was an intensity in his open eye that said he had noticed, and noted, her response and was even now processing what could have caused it.

Still shaking, Sakura pushed her hair back over her shoulder and tried to regain control of her breathing. "The water's getting cold," she commented, hoping he would take the hint.

Several seconds passed where he continued to study her before he nodded and murmured, "Yeah. I think we're done for now."

She nearly let out a sigh of relief as he got to his knees and flicked the drain open. The tub let out a low, growling gurgle as it sucked the water down, slowly exposing her skin to the cool air. Her flesh broke out in protesting bumps and she gratefully accepted the towel he handed over to her. He stepped out of the tub, wrapped the towel around his waist, and scooped his pajamas off the floor.

"I'll go down and get us some breakfast while you finish up in here," he offered, pausing in the doorway to the bedroom. "Anything in particular you'd like?"

Sakura almost shook her head, but stopped and said, "Tea? And maybe some fruit?"

Kakashi's lips lifted briefly. "Sure thing."

She remained seated in the tub, the lower edges of the towel dragging in the remaining bath water, while he got himself around. It wasn't until the door to their room latched behind him that she got up, finished drying off, and wandered into the other room with her pajamas balled to her chest.

He hadn't just been getting himself dressed, she realized as she looked around the space. The bed was made, the curtains that had been obscuring the view of the private hot spring were drawn back to let in the natural light, the clothing he'd picked out for her was folded neatly on the dresser.

And the kunai was gone, as was his hip pouch. The only thing that he'd left behind was the worn copy of _Icha Icha _sitting next to her clothes. He wasn't taking any chances that there would be a repeat of that morning.

Sakura approached the dresser slowly, her stomach fluttering with uncertain fear at the glint of sunlight reflecting back from the mirror. The last time she'd looked at it, she saw a woman on the other side. A woman she'd wanted to make go away. She hesitated just outside of the frame to collect herself and, with a deep breath in, took the final step.

The woman staring back at her was very much the same, but not quite. She was still too thin, still had a sickly coloration to her skin. Her hair was still too long and lanky, her green eyes were wide and haunted … but just beneath the surface was something that hadn't been there mere hours before. She didn't know what to call it, only that it was new and broke through the sadness like a ray of light in the dark.

Her gaze fell to the clothing Kakashi had left out for her: tight navy pants she worked out in and a bright green t-shirt that she only wore when she was cleaning. There was an enormous bleach stain on the back from when she'd accidentally fallen backward onto the floor she'd been scrubbing.

Sakura looked again at the woman in the mirror, saw that her lips were twisted ruefully, and murmured, "Well, what do you expect from a man who doesn't know the difference between sage and pale green?"

She opened the dresser drawer, shoved the clothing he'd picked out back inside, and chose something else from the very limited selection instead.


End file.
